In the Darkness Every Abel is a Cain
by NorthPawRun
Summary: Catherine returns to Vegas to work a serial murder case for the FBI. Eager to be back, she has only one request - that Sara be the CSI working the case with her. Takes place somewhat after the events of Forget Me Not (spoiler alert for some events from that episode). C/S character focused story with possible eventual relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I'm back! :) Hope everyone is doing well. With all the events of last season, certain story ideas wouldn't seem to leave me alone. And, though work has me working crazy hours and wanting to pull out my hair, I finally took the time to start working it into a story.**

**This story, though it will be quite obvious from the beginning, is independent of my previous stories. It uses the events of "Forget Me Not" as a bit of a starting point, so there ARE SPOILERS from that episode in this story if you have not watched it yet.**

**As a note, this story sticks mostly with the actual events of the show, except in this story Sara and Grissom were never married. He isn't really mentioned in this story at all. It's assumed he simply left for other horizons awhile back and never had a marriage with Sara.**

**As always, the story will be a twist of darkness and light. Not entirely sure how dark and how light yet, but it's likely to be a long road like the others.**

**Lastly, I gain no monetary or other benefits from this story. It is written for entertainment purposes only.**

**Hope you guys will join me for another journey :)**

**Enjoy.**

**PS – A special thanks to those who have reviewed to my other stories and those who private messaged me in the interim. Your support of my work has truly inspired me to keep writing (not to mention posting). I really cannot express my gratitude enough.**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

_Each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate with shabby equipment always deteriorating in the general mess of imprecision of feeling. _

_T. S. Eliot _

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"This Thursday?"

"Yes, plane lands at 7:00."

"I'll tell the team."

"Thanks," I smile. "God, I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again."

In the pause I can practically hear DB smiling across the line as well.

"Feeling's mutual."

* * *

"Catherine!"

Nick practically crushes me as he envelops me in a hug.

It's so good to see him again, and I return the hug with just as much enthusiasm.

"Ahem," I hear Greg clear his throat. "Are you guys going to enter the room? Or is Nick just going to hog you all day?"

Smiling, I squeeze Nick's shoulders as I step inside the breakroom.

"Aw, come here, Greg," I call, opening my arms to the young man.

Smiling, he steps up to me and holds me tightly.

"So good to see you, Cath," he says. Pulling back, he reaches over and hands me a coffee. "As always, prepared with perfection. Just for you."

I can't help but laugh. I've missed him, missed them all, so much.

"Thanks," I tell him with a smile.

Reaching over, a figure standing by the counter catches my eye.

"Sara," I state in surprise. "I didn't see you over there."

Sara straightens up, offering me a smile.

"Hi, Catherine."

I smile in return.

Holding open my hands, I shake my head.

"Get over here, Sara."

Pausing just a moment, Sara makes her way over.

Pulling the younger woman into a hug, I hold her tight.

Sara's always been the most standoffish of the group. Particularly with me.

But, having heard of everything that happened with Basderic, she's honesty the one I've been wanting to hug the most.

To see her for myself, to be sure that she's okay for myself.

Sure, DB and the boys kept me updated, but I haven't heard from Sara at all since it happened.

I hadn't heard a lot from her since I left Vegas, to be honest. She replied and sent me the occasional email to check in and make sure Lindsey and I and everything was okay.

But, unlike the guys, she never called or wrote just to tell me how _she_ was doing. Never talked or shared anything about herself and her life back in Vegas.

It's not that I was surprised, I knew the brunette well enough to know the stoic girl isn't much for small talk.

But still, it bothered me to some extent. We had started to build a semblance of a friendship before I left, and the lack of communication between us once I left just felt...off.

Felt like everything we had worked towards had left when I did.

Feeling Sara pull back, she gives my arm a brief squeeze before pulling back.

"Good to see you," she tells me quietly, voice sincere.

"You too," I respond, holding her gaze.

"Catherine!"

DB's voice draws our attention to the doorway. The new night supervisor pulls me into a warm hug.

Pulling back, he gestures to the woman behind him.

"Catherine, this is Finn. I don't believe the two of you have formally met."

"Julie Finlay," the blonde offers, extending her hand.

Shaking it, I smile. "Catherine Willows. Nice to formally meet you. DB and the team have spoken highly of you."

She returns my smile.

"Morgan's out at a scene," DB explains. "Told me to tell you hello for her."

I nod, sad I don't get to see her yet.

"So, how long are you in town?" Nick asks excitedly.

"However long the case takes to close," I tell him honestly. "We've been working on this remotely for a couple weeks now. Since things have escalated, they want someone on location."

I smile widely, "Naturally I jumped at the chance to come back to my old stomping grounds and see you guys."

"I can't believe it's been almost a year," Greg says, shaking his head. "It's really good to see you."

"Same here," I tell them all with a contented sigh. "Same here."

* * *

"So," DB shuts his office door behind us, gesturing to the open seat across his desk. "How may we be of service to the FBI?"

Snorting, I shake my head at him.

"Please," I state. "I've been on the wrong end of the FBI enough times to know how encroaching it can be. I'm just here as a colleague. I'm not taking over the case from you guys."

"Okay," DB says, knowing me well enough to know I'm being honest. That I would handle this no other way.

"I do have a favor, though."

Looking up, he folds his hands across his desk, giving me his full attention.

"Shoot."

"Right now this case has been handled by multiple members of the team," I say. "And I understand, I know firsthand the caseload you guys are dealing with."

DB keeps his gaze firmly on mine.

"I need there to be one CSI on this," I tell him. "I need a consistent point person who I'll be partnering with."

DB takes this in, unfolding his hands to tap his fingers along his desk instead.

"I think Nick is finishing up on his case, he can probably take over once it closes."

I swallow, letting out a breath.

"Russell, I want it to be Sara."

DB pauses in surprise, eyes searching mine.

"I'm sorry?" he questions slowly, head quirking to the side.

"I want it to be Sara."

DB shakes his head, sitting back in his chair.

"Catherine, Sara's been...it...she..."

He pulls off his glasses and rubs his temples.

"Sara's had a rough year. Not to mention everything she's just been through with Basderic."

"I know-"

"I don't think now is the best time to ask her to take point on a case as brutal as this one, Catherine," he states seriously.

"I know," I repeat. "Trust me."

I've spent multiple days reviewing my decision. The FBI left it up to me to choose from the team who was to be point on this, figuring I know them best.

At first I discounted Sara as a contender right away based on the subject matter of the case alone. It's a case about the abduction and abuse of young women. The exact type of case Sara Sidle hates. The types that make her 'go off the deep end' as I so eloquently spat in her face earlier in our career.

Then, there were the other things going on in her life right now. The 'things' that weren't simple or minor things.

Her being stalked, harassed, and nearly framed for murder, for example, is not a simple thing at all.

But, as I worked through the other members of the team, I couldn't ignore the pull on my conscience. The one telling me that Sara is undoubtedly one of the best minds in the field. The one telling me she has more dedication, drive, and insight than anyone else I've ever worked with. The one telling me we made one hell of a team together.

The one telling me that to _not_ choose her would be a disservice to the case, to the victims, and to the families of all the potential future victims counting on us to catch this guy.

"Look," I tell him. "I know she's been through hell. I know what she needs right now is to be taking some time off, not heading up a serial murder case. But, I also know Sara."

I keep my gaze on his.

"She won't take time off, DB. She'll work herself to death. At least this way I can keep an eye on her. But," I wave my hands in the air. "That's not the point. The reason I want it to be her is because she's brilliant, she's always seen things on cases so differently than I do. And that's exactly what I need. I need someone to question me, to challenge me."

I shrug, "Simple as that."

"Catherine..."

I can tell from DB's tone that he's not pleased about this. I know he cares for Sara, and I know the latest events in the brunette's life have put him on edge.

"I'll take care of her, Russell."

I match his gaze.

"You have my word."

DB lets out a long breath, putting his glasses back on.

"I'll ask her," he states. "But the end decision is hers."

* * *

"Hey!" I greet cheerfully, kicking out the seat across from me.

"Hey," Sara greets, taking the offered chair and situating her tall frame across from me.

Pushing a mug of coffee across the table, Sara glances at the mug.

"Black with one sugar," I state. "I trust you still take coffee the same way you used to."

Sara smiles slightly, taking a couple swallows. "Thanks."

"Sure," I offer, watching her as she watches her coffee.

"So," she calls after a few more moments of awkward silence. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I know DB asked you about the case."

Sara furrows her brows. "And I know he told you my decision."

I let out a small laugh at Sara's response, the response that is so Sara-like.

"Yes, Sara, he did," I answer. "But I wanted to talk about it with you directly."

She takes this in, eventually pulling her mug into her hands and leaning back in her chair.

"Okay."

Okay then.

Leaning forward in my own chair, I push my coffee to the side.

"What do you know about the case?"

Sara pauses, eyes meeting mine. Her expression is guarded, and I hope to God she isn't trying to figure out if I'm playing her.

Too often when the FBI would come in on our cases they would make us explain to them what we already knew so they could control how much we knew about the case.

I hope she knows me better than that. I hope she trusts me more than that.

"I just don't want to waste your time with information you already have," I cut in, eyes meeting hers evenly.

She seems to accept this, returning her gaze to the window looking out into the parking lot of the diner.

"Four girls murdered so far," she says. "All taken from bad parts of town, alleys. Suspected prostitutes based on lack of ID, drugs in their systems, location of the abductions, and track marks on their bodies."

She takes in a breath.

"Scenes are always difficult to process due to the seedy locations that have a lot of random items in it. Difficult to differentiate what's just trash and what's of importance. Girls seem to disappear for a couple weeks before their bodies show up. Timelines suggest he may have more than one girl in his possession at a time."

Her eyes return to mine.

"Bodies always show evidence of abuse, physical and sexual."

The silence hangs between us, and neither of us acknowledge the waitress when she comes and refills our coffees.

"Have you worked any of the scenes?"

"No."

Leave it to Sara to know so much information about a case she's never personally laid hands on. Knowing Sara and her workaholic tendencies, it doesn't surprise me in the least that she knows what's going on in the lab around her.

"The first thing I'm going to want to do is revisit all of the sites of abduction and where the bodies were dumped."

"Okay."

"Sara."

I wait until her gaze is on mine.

"You sure you're alright with taking point on this?"

"Why did you ask DB for it to be me?"

Her question catches me off guard.

"Why not Nick or Greg or Morgan?"

I match her gaze.

"Why _not_ you?"

Eyes on mine, her expression is unreadable.

"Like I told DB, I'll work the case," she eventually says, not answering my question.

But, to be fair, I didn't answer hers either.

Placing some money on the table, Sara glances back up at me.

"I have some things I need to tie up from my other cases…"

"Of course," I state, standing and gesturing to the door.

Walking out together, she opens the door of her Tahoe.

"Sara," I call.

Turning, she meets my eyes.

"Thanks."

She watches me for a moment more before nodding.

"Of course. See you back at the lab."

I take a deep breath, watching her car pull out of the lot.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

**AN: As always, thanks for reading. I hope you'll share your thoughts with me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed - I appreciate your support for this new adventure more than you know. And, as to the question many of you posed regarding a C/S relationship in this story, I feel 99% certain there will end up being a C/S romance. May be a complicated road getting there, though. :)****  
**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 2

_"It is one of the chief skills of the philosopher not to occupy himself with questions which do not concern him."_

_Ludwig Wittgenstein_

* * *

CATHERINE POV_  
_

"Misty Godden."

Sara looks up, putting her pen down on the table.

Nodding, she slides over the boxes containing the evidence from the other scenes.

We spent most of shift today revisiting each crime scene. Then, when we got back to the lab, we started going back through the evidence from each victim, one by one.

Now, it's three hours past the end of shift and we've just made it to the last victim.

I'm exhausted, and I know the brunette can't be any better off. But, looking at her determined features, I'm reminded of just how hard it is to read Sara.

"Body found on the corner of Prince and Topaz," she reviews, slicing open the evidence seal. "Twenty six years old. Cause of death, stab wound to the lower back, just like the others."

We divvy up the evidence, just like we have for the victim's before her. Sara takes the trace evidence and crime scene photos while I take the victim's clothing and possessions.

Working through them in silence, we jot down our notes and impressions.

When I finish with my portion, I step out for a moment to grab some coffee from the breakroom.

Smiling at the various lab workers still here at this hour, I breathe in deeply, enjoying the feeling of being back to the halls and spaces that feel so familiar to me.

Though I love my job with the FBI, it feels good to be back on familiar ground.

Moving into the breakroom, I'm about to leave with my coffee when I turn and pour a second cup.

Reversing my path back to the layout room, I sit back down.

Glancing over and seeing the look of intense concentration on my companion's face, I would wager good money she never noticed that I left.

Sliding a coffee towards her, I watch as she doesn't react, writing more notes.

Pushing it further, I place it right under her face.

Finally, she looks up.

Curiously, she glances at me, the coffee, me again.

"Oh, thanks," she offers, putting her pen down.

"Sure," I smile.

Sara looks over her notes before taking a sip of her coffee.

"I think I'm finished."

"Me too," I tell her, though I think my leaving to get coffee was an indicator of that.

Sara nods, sitting up straight and moving slightly back from the table. Stretching out her shoulders, she picks up her coffee to hold it in her hands.

"Anything new?"

"No," I shake my head in frustration. "Just like the others, nothing I can see that wasn't pursued previously."

Sara nods. "Same," she says. "But at least now we're both personally familiar with each victim, each scene."

I nod, appreciating Sara's ability to see something optimistic in what could otherwise be seen as a damn frustrating experience.

Helping her pack up the last box, we place it next to the others along the counter.

"You headed out?" she asks me, finishing the rest of her coffee before tossing the cup in the garbage.

"Yeah, I should," I rub my eyes. "Not sure how much longer I can stay awake."

Watching me, she takes my empty coffee cup and tosses it out as well.

"You need a ride home?" she asks, trying to gage whether I'm too tired to drive.

"No, no," I wave off her concern. "Thanks, but I'll be fine."

She nods, following me out to the locker room.

"Where are you staying while you're here, anyway?" she questions as we move to our respective lockers.

"My mother's house."

Sara snorts, trying to control her facial expression.

"Sorry," she offers. "That came out before I could help it…"

Laughing, I roll my eyes. "No, laugh. It's ridiculous. And a nightmare."

"I thought you and your mom got along?" she probes, grabbing her keys from her shelf.

"We do," I agree. "But something about living with your mother when you're in your forties just feels wrong. On so many levels."

Sara smiles, closing her locker door.

"I'll have to take your word on that."

Walking out to the parking lot, I watch Sara get into her car.

"See you tomorrow," I tell her, unlocking my own.

She nods. "Drive safe."

* * *

When I arrive at the lab the next morning, I know Sara's beaten me in.

I know because her car is parked next to mine, but I also know because it's Sara.

"Hey," I hear the greeting as I pass by the parking lot towards the front door.

Turning, I smile in surprise at Sara herself.

"Hey there. I was just thinking about you…"

Sending me an odd look, she gestures towards the lab.

"I have everything all laid out in layout room 6. Thought we'd start working on the timelines and victomology. See if we can find any connections between the victims."

"Great," I raise my brows. "That sounds good."

Watching her, I quirk my head to the side.

"How long have you been here, Sara?"

She smirks slightly, "Not long."

"Right."

Turning to head inside, I look over at the sound of a phone vibrating.

Sara reaches into her jeans pocket, pulling out the offending device. Glancing at the caller ID she sends the call to voicemail, pushing the phone back into her pocket.

Raising a brow, I don't comment on her dodged call, heading towards the lab.

"What're you doing out here anyway?"

She hesitates.

"Nothing," she eventually shrugs. "Just getting some fresh air."

"Right."

Stopping, I turn to face her.

She stops as well, giving me a funny look for the second time in our brief interaction.

"Cath?"

I take hold of her shoulder. Feeling her tense, I turn her around.

Reaching into her back pocket, I pull out the items I knew I would find.

"Fresh air, huh?"

Sara turns back around to face me.

Eyebrow raised, she now looks at me like I've gone absolutely batty.

"When did you start again?" I question, gesturing to the pack of cigarettes and lighter in my hand.

"What makes you think I ever stopped?" she counters.

"Sara…"

She hesitates, eying her possessions currently in my possession.

"About a year and a half ago."

Now I raise my own brows.

I left about a year ago. A year and a half ago is while I was still working here.

"I never noticed," I state quietly.

Sara's eyes move up to mine.

"I never wanted you to notice."

I watch her for a moment before shoving her cigarettes and lighter in my pocket.

"Catherine?" she questions, hand reaching out for her possessions.

"Nope," I tell her, turning to head back in the lab. "Your contraband stays with me."

"Contraband?" she snorts. "You make it sound like I'm shooting heroin."

"Nope," I climb the front steps. "Just giving yourself lung cancer."

"Catherine…"

Turning, I fix her with a look I perfected for Lindsey when she was being ridiculous.

"You're not getting them back, Sidle. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Deciding to pick her battles, Sara sends one more look down to my pocket before opening the lab door for me.

"I'm going to grab a coffee," she says. "I may or may not bring you back one. I'm going to have to think about it."

I laugh, rolling my eyes at her.

"See you in the layout room."

* * *

"So how are things in DC?" Sara questions as she writes another note on our layout board with erasable marker.

"Good," I answer honestly. "I'm really enjoying the work I do. And I have a good team of people around me."

Sara sends me a genuine smile over her shoulder.

"Good," she says, expression turning more serious. "I know things here were getting a bit rough for you before you left."

"They were." I've never hidden the fact that the circumstances before I left were neither fair nor tolerable to me. "I needed a change, move on and start new somewhere else."

Sara nods. "You're happy?"

I smile at her concern. "I'm happy."

She searches my eyes. Seeing my honesty, she nods with a small smile before turning back around to face the board holding our timeline and information on all the victims.

We continue to work in silence.

But, watching her as I look up, I can't keep quiet about something that's been on my own mind for awhile.

"Sara?"

"Yeah?" she answers distractedly, making another mark on our board.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry about what happened with Basderic."

She pauses, arm suspended over the board mid-word, my comment clearly catching her off guard.

Resuming her writing, she doesn't turn around.

"Thanks."

I shake my head, knowing she can't see me. Sara's always been stoic – never letting on when she's hurting or upset. She guards herself and her emotions so tightly that it's hard to get a read on how she's feeling about anything.

"Are you alright?" I take a risk by asking.

I know from experience she hates being asked if she's okay.

But, that's just too damn bad.

"I'm fine," she answers predictably, continuing to make notes on the board. "It's over."

I watch her for a while longer, not knowing whether to push further.

"The guys kept me informed."

She nods, not commenting.

"I wish you would've told me yourself, Sara. Or talked to me about it at all, really."

She pauses, but still not turning around.

"Why?"

Putting down my own pen I lean back in my chair, piercing the back of her head with my gaze.

"When Nick was going through his tough time, when he adopted Sam, you updated me on how he was doing and let me know what was going on so I could check in on him."

She remains silent.

"When DB was going through issues with his family, you were sure to mention it to me."

Silence.

"When Greg was taking his CSI level III exam, you told me so I could send him some words of encouragement."

Standing, I move around to lean my hip on the table across from her.

"What made you think I wouldn't want to hear about that bastard Ronald Basderic stalking you, trying to frame you for murder?"

I shake my head, wishing she would turn around and give me her eyes.

"Sara, what made you think I wouldn't care about you like I care about the rest of the team?"

Sara remains quiet.

I wait her out, letting the silence grow so she knows I'm waiting for an answer. That the question wasn't rhetorical.

"I was fine," Sara eventually states. "It wasn't some big-"

"Bullshit," I cut her off. "Don't even try to tell me it wasn't a big deal. You got arrested, Sara. Processed. He drugged you, stalked you, tormented you. Then, he tried to kill you."

"I know," Sara says, finally turning around. "I was there."

"Then stop trying to convince me it was no big deal," I plead, voice softening as I see the tension in her frame, the darkness in her eyes.

"It's over. Whether it was a big deal or not. That's all that matters."

"Sometimes the event is over," I say softly. "But its impact on carries on for a long time."

Sara's attention goes to the marker in her hand.

Taking a deep breath, Sara straightens up, eyes returning to mine.

"Thanks for your concern."

With that statement, I know the conversation is over. That she's politely telling me to drop it.

I watch her go back to work, this time her body more tense then before.

I know I shouldn't have expected anything else, but I still feel somewhat upset by Sara's dismissal of my concern. I didn't expect her to open up and cry on my shoulder, I know she isn't the type, but I'd hoped perhaps she had become a bit less stubborn since I'd left.

Thought maybe the time and distance between us had done something to open a new line of communication between us.

But, if anything, she seems even more closed off to me than she was when I worked with her.

Which, is saying a lot.

"I think I may have found a connection between two of our victims," I call out, moving back around the table and granting her wish of dropping the topic of Basderic.

For now.

"Yeah?" she questions, now giving me her full attention.

"Yes," I confirm. "Two of the vics worked, for a brief time, at the same nightclub."

"Really?" Sara questions in surprise. "I would've thought we'd have caught that before."

"The club had a different name when the first vic worked there, but I recognized the name."

Sara raises a brow.

"Wanna check it out?" she asks, an excited smile pulling at her mouth.

"Absolutely."

Focus shifting from a psychopath to a serial killer, we head out in pursuit of our first genuine lead.

Here's hoping I start having more luck with this case than I've had so far with Sara Sidle.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you for the support and the reviews - they help keep the inspiration coming :) Hope everyone is doing well and happy weekend.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 3

_"It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed."_

_Friedrich Schiller_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The nightclub is dark, dingy.

The patronage is scant at this early morning hour. But, this is also Vegas, and a small gathering of men are clustered around the stage where a young girl is dancing.

I walk through, feeling Sara following behind me as we make our way towards the stage.

"I don't believe you two ladies paid our cover charge," a large man steps out in front of me, blocking my path.

"I don't believe we did," I confirm, pulling out my FBI badge. "But I think this should cover it."

The man stiffens, arms crossing over his chest defensively.

"What do you want? All our codes are up to date, everyone working here is over 18."

"That's lovely," I tell him. "We're here about a couple of girls who used to work here."

By now, Sara has moved to my side, eyes narrowed slightly at the owner.

"Names?"

"Misty Godden and Teresa Alder."

He shrugs.

"Don't ring any bells."

"No?" I question darkly. "Perhaps this will jog your memory."

I show him pictures of the two victims.

Taking them, he runs his fingers over the images before shaking his head and handing them back.

"Nope," he says. "And I would've remembered those faces, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sure I don't," I tell him. "Can we speak to some of the other girls? Maybe one of them…remember their faces."

I get the feeling this man would deny ever having seen us if someone were to ask while we were standing right in front of him.

"No."

Sara snorts beside me, turning to look around.

"Look, we can get a warrant," I put the pictures away. "But I would imagine getting shut down while we serve the warrant would be bad for business."

"Nice try," he smiles, revealing teeth better left concealed. "But you don't show pictures of girls like that unless they're dead. And, as you just showed me pictures of them in the morgue, I know you ain't looking for their bodies."

He smiles at me.

"So why don't you go fetch that little warrant of yours and come back later."

Come back when he's had time to clean up whatever illegal activities are likely taking place in the back rooms of this club, in other words.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing getting a warrant is going to take time, time we don't have.

This is the first lead we've had in two days, and we need to keep this moving if we have any hope of catching this guy before another girl dies.

"Nice meeting you ladies," the owner smiles dismissively. "Oh, and you can also come back if you ever want a job. May be a bit old for the stage, but I'm sure I could find a place for you foxes somewhere…more intimate."

Sara tries to hold back a laugh, coughing as she turns away to hide her expression.

"Thanks," I smile sarcastically.

Groaning, I watch him saunter off.

"Well that was productive," I offer sardonically.

Sara has regained her composure enough to take in a couple deep breaths.

"I think maybe it was," she says, getting serious as she clears her throat.

"What?"

Sara gestures to a back door that looks like a broken fire exit.

"If you were a dancer on break, wanting to grab a drink or a smoke, where would you go?"

I catch on to her thought, smiling. "The back alley."

Sara nods, glancing around to be sure the coast is clear.

"You coming, foxy?" she asks, smiling over her shoulder as she steps around me.

* * *

The back alley looks deserted, a couple of dumpsters against the wall and a whole hell of a lot of trash scattered about, but not much in the way of people.

Suspecting this is a lost cause as well, we're about to turn around when a girl comes crashing out the door.

"Woah," she calls in surprise at seeing us, hands immediately going behind her back to hide what she was carrying.

"Hey," I hold my own hands up in a non-threatening position. "We don't care about anything going on here. We just want to know if you recognize a couple girls who we think may have worked at this club."

The girl watches us closely before shrugging.

Showing her the pictures, she looks up in surprise.

"They dead?" she asks, eyes wide.

"So you know them?" I press.

"Yeah," she nods. "The one's Misty…the other…Tracy? Tammy?"

"They both worked here?"

"Yeah," she nods again. "But the one…Tammy or whatever…she left about a week after I started here. Misty left about a month ago."

She shakes her head.

"I thought they just found a better paying gig somewhere else or ran off with their boyfriends or something."

She looks up at me.

"What really happened to them?" she questions quietly.

"That's what we're trying to find out." I put the pictures away. "They have any enemies you knew of? Anyone threatening them, showing up at work acting weird?"

She shakes her head, "No, they-"

Her words are interrupted when another body comes pushing through the door.

This one much larger and angrier than hers.

"Rose, get the hell back inside," the owner growls, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her back towards the door.

Sara stiffens at his rough handling, taking a deliberate step forward.

Reaching out, I grab her by the back of her CSI vest before she can advance further.

Pushing the girl inside, the owner turns back to us.

"I want you off my property," he threatens lowly. "Now."

"Sure," I shrug. "Got the answers we needed."

He stiffens, moving towards me.

Sara matches his move, pulling out of my grip to place herself in front of me.

"Right," the club owner laughs. "Wouldn't want to start a fight with string bean over here…"

Sara tightens her jaw, eyes narrowing.

"String bean has a gun," I offer. "And so do I."

He pauses for a moment. Then, taking a step back, he opens the club door.

"You can exit out the alley," he says with a smirk. "Enjoy your night, ladies."

Moving back inside, he closes the club door behind him.

We both hear the distinctive sound of a lock sliding into place.

"Perfect," I mutter, shaking my head.

"Come on," I call to Sara who's still staring down the back door with narrowed eyes.

Finally turning away, she takes a calming breath. Glancing up and down the alley, she sees our dilemma.

"So," she breathes out. "You want to go with the wall or the fence?"

I groan.

"Neither," I tell her. "Teleportation?"

Sara laughs slightly before moving to inspect the options further.

"It's your call," she says over her shoulder.

"Why is it my call?" I scoff, looking over our options.

"You're the FBI, you outrank me," she shrugs. "Which makes you my boss. And this your decision."

"Great," I mutter.

Seeing what we have to work with, I take a deep breath.

"I say the fence," I decide. "The wall looks too smooth to get a decent grip on to climb over."

Sara shrugs, moving back towards me to head to the fence.

Testing its strength, she places her foot in the openings in the links and her hands along the top bar. Climbing up, she situates herself along the top, straddling the bar.

"Grab onto my wrists," she says, leaning down. "Don't touch the bar."

"Why?" I question.

"Just trust me."

I shrug, knowing I trust Sara Sidle more than most people in my life. Not that I would necessarily be eager to admit that to her.

Taking her wrists, I place my feet in the links, letting her guide me upwards.

When I reach the top, she pulls me over, helping me transition to the other side.

Getting my feet situated, she lowers me gently towards the pavement below.

Letting go, I drop the last foot to the ground.

Seeing I'm safely landed, Sara swings her leg over, placing her feet in the links before dropping herself down alongside me.

When we reach my car, I draw up short at the sound of a vibrating phone.

Reaching for my pocket, I stop midway when Sara pulls hers out, clearly the culprit.

Glancing at the screen, she sends the call to voicemail.

Putting her phone away, she silently opens the passenger door.

Furrowing my brows, I flash back to the other day she did the same thing outside the lab.

Getting in the driver seat, I waste little time pulling out onto the road.

We travel about three minutes before more vibrations cut through the car interior.

This time I don't even bother checking mine.

Sending the call to voicemail, Sara tightens her jaw, keeping her attention focused outside.

"Screening your calls?"

The brunette's expression darkens slightly, clearly hating that I was here to witness her continued avoidance of whoever's on the other line.

"I'll call them back later."

"Okay," I state neutrally, trying to keep my tone light and non-confrontational.

"I put it on silent."

"It's fine."

We don't speak any more, both lost in our heads.

I want to ask Sara what's going on, who the phone calls are from that she's avoiding. But, I don't want to drive a wedge between us. Sara values her privacy, and I think for now I need to respect that.

But, I also want her to address whatever it is she's avoiding. Though she hides it well, I can tell whatever it is is bothering her.

Before I can come to a solution, we reach our destination, tires rolling over gravel as we pull off the road and into the lot.

Pulling into a spot, Sara is unbuckled and out of the car before I have a chance to turn off the engine.

Sighing, I watch her head towards the lab.

* * *

Entering the locker room, I smile as I pass the bench, opening my locker and setting my stuff inside.

Sara and I worked separately for the rest of the shift, trying to find any more connections between our victims or anyone working at that club.

Now, barely able to keep my eyes open, I'm more than ready to head home.

"Sara," I call over my shoulder, grabbing my coat and placing it over the locker door.

Grabbing my keys and tucking them into my pocket, I try again.

"Sara."

Still nothing.

Turning, Sara's still sprawled out on the bench, head buried in her arm.

Getting closer, I smile as I place my hand gently on her back.

"Sara…"

Hearing her mutter something, I get closer.

"Sara, sweetheart…"

"Kill you…"

I pause.

Did she just say what I think she said?

"Sar?"

I rub her shoulder, trying to fully wake her.

"Fucking kill you…"

Removing my hand in shock, I look down at the brunette.

Her tone wasn't joking around, and it's not really Sara's type of humor either. Looking at her tense frame, I'm certain she's still asleep.

"Sara," I try, this time not worrying about being gentle as I squeeze her shoulder tightly. "Wake up."

Taking her arm that's covering her head, I move it away, exposing her face.

Seeing her eyes clenched tightly in what almost appears to be pain, I pause.

Sara's a person who, if you catch her at the right moment, appears haunted. Her gaze, which is normally guarded, stoic, but pleasant, will occasionally shift and if you catch it right in the perfect moment, you can see a deep sadness underneath.

Now, seeing her uninhibited in sleep, she looks tortured.

"Sara," I whisper this time, touching the side of her face gently. "Wake up, honey."

Sara seems almost confused at first by the contact, and then she jerks violently away from me.

Which, seeing as how she was balanced on a tiny bench, sends her sprawling off onto the concrete floor.

Before I can reach over and help her, I jump back in shock as I find her gun pointed directly in my face and her hand gripping dangerously near my throat.

Her breathing is labored, her eyes narrowed and squinting, like she's trying to figure out her surroundings.

"Sara…" I call out, hands up. "Put it down."

Dragging in shaking breaths, her eyebrows furrow at my words.

Eyes narrowing further, he gaze shifts downward, taking in her shaking hand gripping my shirt. The other shaking hand gripping her gun. Her gun that's pointed at my head.

"Fuck," she curses, pulling her arms back like she was slapped, stepping quickly away from me until her back hits the lockers.

Her gaze lifts to mine.

"Catherine…"

Shaking my head, I look her over, eyes unintentionally pausing at the gun in her still trembling hand.

"You sleep with your gun now?"

She turns her head away, no longer meeting my gaze.

Jarred from her sleep, her first instinct was to grab her gun, and grab it from its spot tucked in the back of jeans, not at her hip like it is for work.

"Sara," I start, concerned about what I just saw, witnessed.

Sara has always been strong, but gentle. She's always been tough as nails, but with a deep kindness inside her.

Hearing her growl the words 'fucking kill you' and draw her weapon, pointing it in my face…

It doesn't fit with the kind and gentle woman I know her to be.

"I'm, uh, going to go get some air," she states, clearing her throat. Bringing her eyes back up to mine, she forces herself to meet my gaze.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly.

I watch her leave, too off kilter from what just happened to form a response.

For the first time since we started this case, I'm nervous. I think it's clear I've underestimated the issues going on with Sara right now. I don't know what exactly it is that the brunette is hiding, what she's going through.

All I do know is that her behavior, her secrets, have me worried.

And, I'm extra worried because she isn't the only one keeping things from her teammate.

Between the both of us, there's a lot that's not being said.

And, knowing what my own secrets are, I worry about us facing this killer.

Facing this killer while we're both unquestionably struggling with facing our own demons.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you to the reviewers, it really helps knowing people's thoughts regarding the story. Not to mention providing a much needed moment of happiness after and before hectic days at work. The little bit of escape is both very helpful and appreciated.**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 4

_"In comradeship is danger countered best."_

_Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Damn piece of shit car," I curse again, kicking its tire. As if it's an animate object and can feel my violence.

Cursing again, I shake out my foot. _I _can certainly feel my violence.

Hearing an engine, I turn to see Sara pulling into the drive.

She shuts off the engine, closing her door as she steps up to the back of my car.

It was the epitome of bad timing after what happened between us last night that I had to call her this morning to ask for a ride. Seriously, only this ridiculousness would happen to me.

Our phone conversation was brief, Sara mostly listening before offering to swing by and give me a ride. It was a bit awkward, yes, but both of us apparently resolutely deciding to avoid the issue made it more tolerable.

"Problems, I hear?" Sara questions, stepping around the car slowly, eventually moving her eyes up to mine.

God bless her, she mostly succeeds in trying to keep the smile off her face.

"Won't start."

Sara raises a brow, "Want me to take a look?"

"You know what to look for?"

Sara shrugs. "Probably not, don't have the most experience with fancy pants Lexuses."

"Well," I shrug as well. "When you put it that way…"

I send her a look, "And, for the record, it's the car the FBI chose, not me."

She tries to hold back a smile, sending me an innocent shrug. "I wasn't judging, only realizing that I'm apparently in the wrong line of work."

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes, "Well, 'fancy pants' car or not, it's the rental company's problem now."

"You sure?"

"Positive," I answer, letting out a breath. "We unfortunately have enough work of our own to get started on."

I glare at my car one last time before gesturing back to the house. "I just have to run in and grab my bag."

Heading up the steps, my mother steps out at the same time.

"What's going on, Cathy?" she questions. "You're up making so much racket at this early hour. I do have neighbors, you know."

"Car trouble," I mutter, walking past her.

Grabbing my bag, I step back out of the house to find my mother approaching Sara, who is still staring at my car with a thoughtful expression.

"Mother!" I call, causing both her and Sara to turn.

My mother turns back around, completing her journey.

"You must be Sara Sidle," my mother states, looking Sara up and down.

"Uh, yes ma'am," Sara answers politely, shooting me a curious look.

"Nice to finally meet you," Lily says pointedly. "Don't believe I've ever actually seen you in person. Just on the news."

"Right," Sara says. "Nice to meet you, too."

"When Cathy had the boys over for dinner and things, I guess you were never able to make it. I don't remember seeing you when I would pick up Lindsey."

Sara grows more uncomfortable.

"I guess not."

"Mother," I cut into this ridiculously awkward conversation. "We have to get going."

"Of course," she sends us a sugary smile. "You have important things to do. Don't let me hold you up."

"It was nice meeting you," Sara offers, pulling her keys from her pocket.

My mother studies Sara, eyes moving from her feet, up her light fitted jeans, up her dark maroon sweater, finally landing back at her eyes.

"Be safe," she says, fake smile returning to her face.

As we get in the car, she places her hand along the frame of Sara's open window.

"Oh, Sara honey," she says in a stage whisper she knows we can both hear clearly. "That whole business about you being arrested for murder that was all over the television…"

Sara stiffens as her hand hovers with the keys just above the ignition.

"I never thought you did it."

Sara's voice is quiet, tight, "Thanks."

My mother smiles, stepping back and waving as Sara starts the car and pulls out of the drive.

* * *

"I'm sorry," I apologize for the thirtieth time since we started this drive.

"It's fine," Sara shrugs, repeating her own comment for the thirtieth time.

"My mother has very little, if any, tact."

"It's really okay," Sara changes lanes. "It's not the first time I've heard that same comment since the Basderic nonsense. I'm not naive enough to think it's going to be the last either."

"And hey," Sara sends me a smile, "at least she doesn't think I did it…that's a plus."

"Sara," I groan, covering my face in my hands.

I feel Sara's hand on my arm, the brunette giving it a small squeeze before returning her attention to the road.

"It's really fine," she tells me.

I watch her profile, wondering how the hell she can be so forgiving and goodnatured about this.

How she can be so composed, in general.

I was nervous to face her after the incident in the locker room. It goes without saying that we didn't part in the most comfortable of ways last shift. But, seeing Sara's attitude today, her characteristic calm and steady nature despite my mother's insensitive comments, I'm relieved to see the brunette's attitude and actions have returned to normal.

While I'm not one for avoidance, I think right now neither one of us are ready to address the issues last night brought to light.

My musings are interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

"Willows."

Listening to the caller, I hang up after a minute.

"You okay?" Sara asks as I watch my phone with dark eyes.

"We have another scene."

"Another scene…?" she glances over before turning into the next lane, voice and tone sober. "You mean…"

"Yeah," I breathe out. "Another victim."

* * *

Heading towards the street, I find Sara standing by the curb, leaning against a privacy wall.

Taking in multiple deep breaths, I clear my thoughts of the images from the alley behind me.

The dingy alley that now serves as the final resting place for our latest victim. The alley that holds so much violence, so much devastation and loss.

Moving towards her, I see her look up at me, watching me as I approach.

"Hey," she greets neutrally.

"Hey," I gesture to her hand. "I see you're back on the horse."

Sara nods, unapologetically finishing her cigarette. "Had to light it with some stones and a stick though, since someone took my lighter."

"Very funny."

I lean against the wall beside her.

"I may actually ask to borrow one from you before this trip's over," I confess.

"You alright?" she questions seriously, hazel eyes searching my expression.

And there, on clear display, is Sara's uncanny ability to assess and reach out to those around her.

"I'm tired, frustrated, and damn sick of chasing after this killer like some lost puppy."

Sara listens to my words, my honesty, taking a deep breath.

"We're doing the best we can, Cath," she offers quietly. "We can't create evidence that isn't there or leads that aren't legit."

"I know," I kick at the ground. "But it's still frustrating."

"I know," she mirrors my own words back to me. "But you're one of the best investigators in the country. Surely one of the best I've ever worked with. You can't tell me you honestly think there's someone else who could be moving this case along any faster or working it any better."

Standing there in silence for awhile, I shake my head.

"How do you always do that?"

My question clearly confuses Sara, the brunette quirking her head slightly.

"Do what?"

"So successfully comfort and reach out to help those around you."

She looks even more confused, clearing wondering why I'm questioning her when she was just being honest.

Taking a deep breath, I squeeze her shoulder.

"Thank you," I settle on saying.

"Sure," she breathes out, both of us remaining in silence before we return to the task of notifying another family that their daughter is never coming home.

* * *

"I need a drink."

Sara looks up, shooting me a curious look.

"I know it's not professional," I roll my eyes. "But I'm beyond giving a shit."

I toss my pen on the layout table, watching it skitter near the edge.

"I can't sit here another minute looking at this girl's beaten body, seeing her parents' devastated faces in my head, knowing we have yet again absolutely no useful evidence."

"We don't know that yet," Sara states gently. "There are still a lot of things running through trace."

"I'll bet you a hundred dollars not one of them is probative."

Sara watches me quietly.

"Come on," she states, pushing her tall frame to a stand, stretching out her muscles.

"Where?"

"You said you needed a drink," she answers slowly like I'm brain damaged. "So let's go get one."

"Where?"

"Finn's office. Bottom drawer."

My eyes widen.

Rolling her own eyes, Sara moves to the door.

"I was thinking one of the establishments that sell alcohol. But, dear me, wherever will we find one of those…"

"Alright, alright, smartass," I call out, getting to my feet. "I get it."

Hesitating as I get to the doorway, Sara gets serious.

"We've done all we can for today, Catherine. The evidence is going to be running for at least another couple hours. We need fresh eyes when we get the results."

Looking her over, I see, despite her upbeat demeanor, the paleness of her features and the exhaustion in her frame.

"Okay," I agree, knowing we both need a break. "But I get to pick the place."

* * *

"Seriously?" Sara calls. "This is the place you choose?"

I nod. "Yup."

"Seriously?"

"Sidle, get out of the car."

"But…this is…"

"I know exactly where this is."

She looks at me with hesitance. "This…"

"Yes, Sara, this is my home. And, this is me getting annoyed as I stand outside in the cold waiting for you to get your ass out of the damn car."

"Why here?" She doesn't make a move to exit the vehicle.

"Look," I tell her seriously. "I want to relax, not have to worry about a crazy bar scene or how I'm getting home."

Sara finally gets out.

"Your mother might disapprove of your drinking partner," Sara mutters, walking with me up to the front door. "Might worry I'll stab you with my drinking glass…"

"Sara," I snort. "My mother doesn't know you. And, more to the point, my mother is out of town."

"Yeah?" Sara's expression lightens.

Placing my hand on her back, I walk with her into the house with a smile.

"Yeah."

* * *

"So, your mother bought your home when you left Vegas?"

"Yeah," I hand Sara a wineglass, watching her as she looks over her surroundings. "She was looking for a place, didn't want to see it go on the market."

"It's beautiful."

"Thanks."

Sara takes a sip of her wine, eyes taking in the various items displayed on the bookshelf.

"You never told me you were such a good artist."

I groan, reaching over and practically dragging Sara away from the shelves.

"I don't know why in the world she insists on keeping that retched thing."

"Because she loves you?" Sara questions with a smile. "And no one can craft a turtle using finger paint quite as well as you can."

"I swear," I threaten, sitting beside her on the couch. "If you ever tell the guys…"

"I'm surprised they don't already know," Sara shrugs. "You know, from all the parties you had without me…"

"Jesus," I breathe out. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Sara smiles, "Probably not."

Our conversation continues on light topics, Sara asking a lot about how Lindsey's doing at college, what my team members are like in DC.

We talk, laugh, then laugh some more before Sara realizes how late it is.

Standing, she helps me take the now empty wine bottle and glasses to the kitchen.

"You mind if I borrow your phone to call a cab?"

"What?" I shake my head. "No, Sara, stay here for the night, it's late."

"No, it's fine-"

"Sara," I cut her off. "By the time you get back to your place, you're only going to get a couple hours of sleep before you have to turn back around and give me a ride to the lab. This way we both get some decent rest and just leave together in the morning."

She hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

"Come on," I continue. "There's a spare room and I know you keep an extra change of clothes in your Tahoe."

Sara ponders the proposition a few moments more, but in the end I think exhaustion wins out and she agrees.

"Great," I smile. "Let me go get you some towels."

* * *

Waking in the morning, I stretch, glancing at the clock and the sun starting to filter through the windows.

Smiling, I remember the night with Sara, the easy conversation and the relaxing time we shared. The brunette succeeded spectacularly in getting my mind off the case, helping me gather myself back together so I can wake up today refreshed and ready to carry on.

Stepping out of bed, I grab a sweater from my chair and wrap it around myself before heading down the stairs.

Glancing around, I notice some muffins and coffee on the counter from the local bakery. Seeing blueberry, my favorite, I unabashedly consume about half before I take my first sip of coffee.

Looking around, I note that Sara isn't anywhere to be found.

Walking through the living room, I again glance around, drinking my coffee.

By the time I think to look outside, I swallow the last bite of my muffin.

Opening my front door, I see Sara sitting along my front steps.

"Hey," I greet with a smile. "What are you doing out here? It's freezing out."

Sara doesn't respond, and I sit next to her on the steps.

"Thanks for the muffins, and the coffee."

Sara still doesn't respond, and for the first time I pick up on her tension.

"Sara?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sara finally reacts to my presence, swallowing tightly.

"Sara," I try again in concern. "You're making me nervous…"

Seeing her darkened features, I furrow my brows, reaching out to place my hand on her leg.

The moment I make contact, Sara pushes away, hastily standing and taking a couple steps away.

"Don't."

Raising my hands in surrender, my eyes are wide.

"Sara, what's going on?"

Taking a deep breath, Sara's own eyes remain anywhere but near my own.

Pointing back near the house, she directs her dark gaze behind me.

Furrowing my brows and following her line of sight, I see a small brown package leaning up against the house.

Instantly, my stomach plummets.

Feeling the blood drain from my limbs, I turn my gaze to Sara, who is now darkly staring at the ground.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Her question hangs in the air, the hurt clear to read in her tone despite her efforts to cover it.

I breathe in, hanging my own head, trying to settle the pounding of my heart.

"Sara…"

I trail off, knowing there's nothing I can say to make this alright. There's no excuse for this.

"I…" I trail off, forcing myself to look up.

Seeing her dark expression, I force myself to give her the respect of looking at her regardless of how hard it is to see the hurt in her features.

"I saw him," Sara grinds out, forcing her own self to meet my gaze. The fire in her eyes is an intensity of anger I've very rarely seen in Sara.

Catching up to her words, my heart starts to pound through my chest.

"He was right here, Catherine," Sara forces out. "Walking away when I came back from getting the coffee and muffins."

She shakes her head.

"He was _right here._"

I'm sure I look paler than a corpse right now.

"If I'd known…"

She trails off, knowing she doesn't need to finish her statement.

I know exactly how badly I screwed up, the extent of the repercussions of my mistake.

"Sara…"

"No," Sara says tightly. "Don't bother."

Her gaze fixes on mine for a moment before she looks back at the package.

"I opened it," she says, trying to take in deep breaths and settle her emotions down to focus on addressing the issues at hand. "I picked it up to move it inside, but…there was blood…so I…"

Sara absently opens and closes her hands into tight fists.

I close my eyes, knowing her well enough to know she wouldn't have washed her hands in order to preserve the evidence. God only knows how long she's been stuck sitting out here with that blood on her hands before I woke up.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice now nearly a whisper.

"Skin," she gets out. "Hair."

I close my eyes.

"Whose are they?" Sara questions tightly.

"The next victim's," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. "He sends them after we find a victim, to let me know he already has another girl, and that we'll be finding her own body soon."

Sara's jaw tightens. "How long?"

"Since the first girl."

Sara shakes her head.

"You're being targeted by this killer," Sara struggles to get out. "And you don't think to share that with me?"

"Sara, I-"

"Stop," Sara again cuts me off. "There's nothing you can say, so let's not bother."

Breathing out, I rub my temples, knowing she's right, but wishing she would let me apologize to her.

I know well enough how shitty of a move it was to keep this from her. How important a part of the case this is.

To be honest, I don't really have a good excuse for it, either. I think me coming back to Vegas made me think I was somehow getting a fresh start on this case. I didn't want to delve back into the terror of receiving those damn packages at my apartment in DC. Knowing some killer back in Vegas wanted me to have them, tracking me all the way to DC to give them to me.

Perhaps I thought by not bringing it up, maybe the packages wouldn't follow me to Vegas.

"We, uh," I clear my throat. "We need to get this package to the lab. The others haven't been helpful, all the girls he picks, despite their pasts, haven't been in the system. There's been no way for us to use them to find the girl before…"

Sara remains silent, anger radiating off her in waves. And, she has every right to be angry.

"Sar," I broach gently. "We need to collect the blood evidence from you."

She doesn't comment, already knowing this.

Tightening her jaw, she remains keeping her hands away from her body.

"The keys to the Tahoe are in my front right pocket."

I nod, approaching her slowly, trying to make this as painless as possible. I know she hates being touched on the best of days, and right now, as mad as she is at me, I'm sure I'm the last person she wants in her personal space.

Holding her hip with my left hand, I reach down into her pocket with my other, grabbing the keys.

Moving into the drive, I open the trunk of the SUV, grabbing her evidence kit.

Making my way back up the drive, I set the kit down on the porch. Picking out a couple swabs, I approach Sara.

Holding her hands out on front of her, Sara's gaze remains averted as I swab the blood marring her fingers and parts of her palms.

"Alright," I look her over. "I think that's good."

Sara closes her hands, stepping away from me.

Grabbing her belt before she has a chance to move completely out of reach, I hold her there.

"Sara, I'm sorry," I get out before she can cut me off. "I'm so so sorry."

Her gaze remains off to my left, the tension in her body clearly palpable beneath my fingers.

Finally, her gaze meets mine.

"Okay," she whispers.

Deciding this is the best I'm going to get for now, I nod, letting go of her.

"If you don't mind," Sara looks towards her hands. "I'd like to get to the lab, take a shower…"

I know better than to offer her to take one here. I know she needs space to herself, to recenter herself. And, I know the brunette doesn't want to taint my, now my mother's, home with the blood of a girl we know is currently being tortured, and is soon to be killed.

She doesn't want me to think about that every time I step in my shower. And, I'm so grateful to her for that.

"Of course," I nod, packing up her evidence kit. "Just give me minute to get changed. Then we'll bag the package and head in."

Sara nods, her voice stopping me when I have my hand on the door.

"Is this why?"

I turn.

"Is this why you wanted me to work this case?" Sara asks. "Because I'm the one you can lie to and not feel guilty about it?"

Eyes widening, I'm too stunned to speak for a minute.

After all these years, to think she honestly thinks that's how I see her, that I would use her in that way, it's devastating.

"Sara," I breathe out, trying to steady myself. "That's not it at all."

Sara remains silent.

"Look at me."

Her dark gaze stays on the driveway.

"Sara," I state, this time my voice stern.

Moving up to her, I take hold of her jaw. "Look. At. Me."

Feeling her teeth clench tightly, she finally makes eye contact.

"Yes, the fact that the killer has been sending these demonic packages to me is the reason I chose you."

She starts to pull away, and I grab her side with my free hand, taking advantage of the fact she doesn't want to touch me with the blood on her hands to help free herself from my tight grip.

"This case, his packages, it all scares the shit out of me. And you, Sara Sidle, are the only person I trust to have my back."

I match her tense gaze.

"We've had our differences, yes. But, despite that, you're the person I trust most with my life, Sara."

I clear my throat, trying to keep the emotion from choking me.

"So, did I use you for my own benefit? Yes. Was it selfish of me after everything you've just gone through yourself? Yes. And for that I'm sorry, I really am. But don't you dare think for a minute it's because of any other reason than the fact I trust you in ways I can't explain. Ways that I don't trust anyone else on the team."

Sara continues to watch me, clearly trying to take in my confession.

Moving the hand clenching her jaw, I take the aggression out of my grip and move it down to squeeze her shoulder gently.

Saying nothing more, I turn back around to head inside and get ready.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks for the continued support for this story - glad you guys are enjoying the ride so far :) **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 5

_"The next best thing to knowing something is knowing where to find it."_

_Samuel Johnson_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"I don't care who you are, or what kind of history we have, that was a bullshit move."

I don't respond to DB's heated words. I don't have to since I agree with everything he's said so far.

"You put people's lives at risk when you keep secrets like that, Catherine," DB continues. "Sara's, yours."

He seems to want some sort of response this time, and so I nod. "I know."

"Do you?" DB questions seriously. "Because it seems like you weren't thinking much through when you decided to keep this from us."

He shakes his head.

"Not to mention from Sara, who you personally requested to work this case."

I wish I could say I was angry at the fact I'm being yelled at like a 5 year old. But, to be honest, I'm the most upset with myself.

Stomach churning tightly, I keep my focus on DB, when all I really want to do right now is talk to Sara.

* * *

It takes about another twenty minutes before DB finishes with me, and the disappointment in his gaze is something that's going to stick with me much longer than the length of the meeting.

Sighing, I move through to another lab, finding it empty.

"Damn it," I curse, turning in a circle as I jam my fingers into what I'm sure is very tangled hair.

"Can I assist you in some way?"

I turn, coming face to face with an amused blonde.

"Finn," I breathe out. "Have you seen Sara?"

"Sure," she nods. "She was working in the ballistics lab with Morgan."

"Oh," I raise a brow. I never would've thought to look there as our case doesn't involve the use of a gun. "Thanks."

"Yup," Finn smiles, sauntering off down the hall.

Turning around more corners and hallways, I finally arrive at the lab.

Sure enough, Sara's there, leaning against the table while Morgan shows her something on what looks like a Smith and Wesson.

"But how do you get a perfect print on the _inside _of the barrel when the barrel itself is unaltered? Never removed from the gun?"

"What were the bullets like?"

Morgan furrows her brows. "What do you mean?"

"Their composition."

She shrugs, "I don't know, we never recovered any fragments at the scene."

Sara nods. "We caught a case once, the guy used _meat _bullets to kill his victim."

Morgan makes a face. "Gross," she offers. Then she pauses. "But kinda cool…."

Shaking her head, she puts down the gun. "Regardless, I'm not sure I'm getting where you're headed with this…"

"You don't touch the inside of the gun barrel, but you do touch bullets, which then transfer into the barrel."

Sara pulls her own gun from her hip, showing Morgan the bullet in the chamber of her own weapon.

"Normally, you shoot the gun and what happens?"

"The bullet ignites and is fired, reducing the bullet and any prints on it to almost nothing due to the heat of the reaction and force of impact."

"Unless…"

Morgan's face slowly transforms into a smile. "Unless you aren't using an ordinary bullet."

She quirks her head, "But the print should still be lost after the gun is fired."

"Which leads you to what conclusion?"

Morgan's smile now expands to her ears. "He's either firing some weird bullets that don't ignite, or this isn't the weapon."

Shaking her head, the blonde groans, "That cheeky bastard."

Sara smiles slightly, her gaze shifting upward. Her smile immediately leaves when she sees me standing in the doorway.

"Hey Catherine," Morgan greets, following Sara's gaze. "Sorry to borrow your casemate here, but I needed some help with this pesky murder case of mine."

"No problem," I tell her, smiling. "But do you mind if I talk to Sara alone for a bit?"

Knowing a dismissal when she hears one, Morgan nods. "Of course."

"Thanks again," Morgan offers to Sara. "I owe you one. Or twelve."

Sara smiles back, watching Morgan as she leaves.

* * *

The moment we're alone, the tension in the room nearly triples.

Standing up to her full height, Sara checks the safety on her gun before returning it to her hip.

"Trace is back on the evidence from yesterday's scene."

"Sara," I cut in, still hesitating near the doorway. "We need to talk about what happened."

"There's nothing to talk about," Sara disagrees. "DB probably spent the last half hour lecturing you about your 'decision making process,' but can't do anything other than lecture you because technically you outrank him. So, the case is still yours."

Sara is sometimes too damn smart for her own good.

"But," I offer. "The case doesn't have to be _yours_."

Sara looks over at me.

"Doesn't it?" she questions. "You tell me the killer is targeting you, that your life is in danger, and you expect me to just up and walk away?"

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," I answer honestly. "With everything that's happened to you-"

"Don't," Sara gets out, tone controlled but with a distinct edge to it. "Stop bringing that up. This has nothing to do with me or Basderic."

I watch her, taking in her dark features. "You have a right to take the proper time to deal with it, Sara. And my asking you to work this case took away that option for you. It wasn't fair. And my keeping the fact that we're dealing with another psychopath-"

Tension radiating off her, Sara shakes her head.

"Seriously, Catherine, stop," she cuts me off. "You asked me to work this case, and I'm a grown adult who can decide for herself what she wants to do. But, one thing I _won't _do, is continue to talk about Basderic."

Her gaze is piercing.

"I mean it."

"Fine," I raise my hands.

Taking a couple deep breaths, I try to recenter myself.

I know Sara's avoidance of the Basderic issue isn't healthy, but I don't really have any right to call the shots with her.

Not after what I just did.

"We need to talk about the previous packages," I tell her. "You need to know everything that I do."

Sara's eyes move away from mine, and I know she's biting her tongue regarding how long it took me to come to that conclusion.

But, instead, she takes a deep breath, keeping her expression stoic and herself silent.

"So, the first package…"

I continue to tell Sara about every package he left me, showing her pictures, trace evidence reports, all the information I have.

It takes us the better part of an hour to make our way to the current package.

When I finish, Sara's expression still hasn't changed much, but I can see her working through the information in her head.

Finally breaking her silence, she takes the opportunity to fill me in on the results of the trace evidence from our latest victim. Not surprisingly, there isn't much that's of any help.

Sighing, I gather up the papers spread out on the table in front of us. It was a hard conversation, but it feels good finally having everything out there. Having Sara and I exactly on the same page.

"Catherine," Sara's voice stops me as I finish. "What are you doing about your living situation?"

"What do you mean?"

Sara narrows her eyes.

"You want him to keep sending bloody packages to your mother's house?" She raises a brow. "Your mother may not be my favorite person at the moment, but that seems a bit harsh, even to me…"

I shrug, thinking it over.

"I don't know, Sara," I state. "He never really did much besides leave them there. I don't want to go to a hotel or something where I'm putting other people in danger."

Sara pinches the bridge of her nose.

"I have an extra room."

Her expression and her tone tell me she isn't quite sure how she feels about her words that now hang between us, despite her choice to voice them.

"What?"

She doesn't repeat herself, knowing I heard her just fine even though my brain is clearly struggling to catch up with my ears.

"No," I shake my head. "I can't."

She lets out a snort.

"Right, instead you can just wait to see what happens when your mother sticks _her _hands on a bloody package," she shrugs. "Or, better yet, wait and see what happens when you're there alone."

"I know Brass will loan me some guys to keep watch…"

"Of course he will," Sara agrees. "But that isn't the point."

Sara takes a deep breath.

"Look, Catherine, I think you know how I feel about you and the current situation. But you know as well as I do that you being alone, or you being with your unarmed mother, is not the best of options right now."

As much as I try to convince myself otherwise, she's right, I know she is. But, it's a hard reality to accept. And, taking her help, after all she's already done for me, is an even harder reality to accept.

But, I need to put my safety before my pride right now.

"Fine," I give in. "But the moment you change your mind, you let me know."

Sara nods, but we both know she won't change her mind until we see this case through.

* * *

Grabbing my shoes from my closet, I toss them in the bag, zipping it up and walking out to add it to the one by the door.

"I think this is it," I mutter, mostly to myself.

"No," my mother corrects. "There's something else."

"What?"

Gesturing, she beckons me closer.

Rolling my eyes, I do as she asks, moving towards her where she stands in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Here, Cathy," she says, using that stage whisper she seems to have perfected. "Take these."

Glancing down, I note the granola bars she's shoving in my hands.

"Mother, what in the world…"

"You're going to need some food," my mother states in her whisper. "Apparently Sara doesn't believe in eating."

Hearing a choking noise, I note Sara coughing on the water she was drinking.

"I, uh," Sara coughs. "I'm going to go take these bags out to the Tahoe."

Glancing up at my mother, Sara pauses before shaking her head, clearly at a loss.

"It was great seeing you again, Ms. Flynn."

With that, Sara takes my bags and heads outside.

"Really?" I question my mother, eyes wide.

"What?" she asks innocently.

"Jesus, mother," I curse under my breath.

"What?" she asks again. "That girl looks like a walking skeleton. Someone should feed her."

"I'm sure Sara, a grown woman, can feed herself."

"Apparently not."

"Goodbye, mother."

Giving her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, I escape out the door as quickly as I can.

* * *

"Should I bother apologizing?"

Sara smiles slightly from her place behind the wheel. "While I'm curious to see you try, don't worry about it."

"I swear…that woman…at times…"

I trail off, my frustration with my mother's lack of tact clearly evident.

It's not that she was wrong, per se. Sara has definitely lost weight since I left Vegas. It's one of the first things I noticed when I saw her, in fact.

Sara was always thin, often bordering on too thin, in my opinion. Now, she's no longer bordering – she's simply much too thin.

But, knowing the recent events in the brunette's life, I figured the last thing she needed was someone telling her she looks like shit.

But, clearly, my mother did that for me.

While I grow more nervous as we get closer to Sara's home, I also selfishly get a bit more relieved as well.

While us being thrown together may not be the best of ideas, keeping in mind our rocky past, one that now includes our most recent debacle, it will at least provide me with more time to figure out what in the hell's going on with the quiet brunette.

The dodged phone calls, her pulling her gun on me in the locker room, her weight loss.

She may have been able to hide what's going on from me before, but it's going to be a hell of a lot harder for her to hide anything from me now.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Sorry for the delay in update - hectic week. Thank you to the reviewers, your guys' support astounds me every time.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 6

_"All progress is precarious, and the solution of one problem brings us face to face with another problem."_

_Martin Luther King Jr._

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Do you ever sleep?"

Sara glances up before returning her gaze to the papers in her hands.

"Wasn't tired."

I move closer, reaching out to hand her a beer.

Looking up again, Sara accepts the offered item, taking a hesitant sip.

"Thanks."

"So," I question tentatively. "What is it you're working on at this hour?"

She hesitates, increasing my anxiety.

Letting out a sigh, she puts the papers down on her knees, holding her beer with both hands.

"Just going over stuff from the case."

"Stuff?" Her answer was evasive, and she knows I'm not going to let it stay that way.

"I'm trying to figure out the connection."

"To…"

"You."

"Ah," I breathe out, setting myself down next to her on the back step. "Why he's sending _me_ the packages."

Sara nods, "Unless of course you already know and just aren't telling me."

I let her comment hang silently between us, not dignifying it with an answer.

"I'm sorry," Sara offers quietly after a few moments, rubbing her temples. "I'm just…"

"Exhausted?" I offer when she trails off, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the paleness to her complexion.

"Look," I glance down at the papers in her lap. "Why don't you let it go for tonight, get some decent rest?"

"I think I'm going to go through things just a little while longer."

I know Sara, and I know 'a little while longer' means as much time as it takes to get to the answer she seeks. I'm torn, really. Part of me wants her to keep working if it gets us one step closer to who this monster is and why he picked me as his play toy. But, the other part of me cares enough about Sara to hate seeing her working herself down like this.

"Sar-"

My argument is cut off by the sounds of a vibrating phone.

Both of us look to her jeans pocket, knowing exactly whose it is.

Pulling out her phone, Sara turns it off.

The silence now between us is palpable.

Clearing her throat, Sara pushes herself to a stand, awkwardly holding the papers and her beer in one hand.

"I think I'm going to take your suggestion and get some rest."

Without waiting for a response, she is through the door and out of sight mere seconds later.

"Bullshit," I curse under my breath. "What the hell is going on with you, Sidle…"

* * *

Running my fingers down the side of the shelf, I let my eyes continue to roam over the sights before me. The pictures, the statues, the books.

The sides to Sara that I've never before had the opportunity to see.

It's clear that she has a passion for the arts, for poetry and music. Her displayed pieces and the titles of the works gracing the shelves is evidence enough. She has a glass box that inside holds innumerable tickets to the orchestra.

I feel like I'm snooping, but I can't stop myself. The brunette gives so little about herself away that I feel if I don't cheat and learn about her this way, I'll continue to go another 10 years without knowing much more about her than her name and profession.

"Careful," a voice cautions from behind me, startling me. "Some of those boxes don't hold such benign things."

I shake my head, hand over my racing heart.

"I'm sorry."

Sara smiles slightly, moving away.

"Don't be, you're an investigator. You can't help it."

"Still," I turn around. "It's not you I'm investigating."

Sara raises a brow, eyes moving between me and her bookshelf.

Seeing her standing there, cleanly dressed in a black long sleeve shirt and jeans, pleasant expression holding no hint of the exhaustion I know she's feeling after last night, something in me shifts.

"If I were investigating you, I'd know by now who the hell's calls you keep avoiding. What the hell it is you're hiding."

Sara's expression stiffens, the younger woman meeting my gaze before turning to head to the kitchen.

"Well, you're not investigating me, Catherine."

"No," I shrug. "I'm just here to work this case with you. Wouldn't want to get bogged down in the distraction of getting to know you or developing any sort of commodore. No, wouldn't want that."

"We worked cases together for ten years," Sara gets out, moving to get a knife from the drawer. "You know me."

"I know your working style, the car you drive, the lab you prefer to work in." I shake my head. "That's not knowing someone, Sara."

"Where is this coming from, Catherine? Like I said," Sara grabs an apple from her counter. "You're not investigating me."

"No, but I'm depending on you."

Sara stops her slice in the apple midway, eyes moving up to mine. "Don't even…"

"What?" I cut her off. "Don't suggest that I'm worried about your behavior? Your secrets and your avoidance?"

"Don't you dare," she tells me, jaw tight. "Don't come here, asking for my help, and then think it's appropriate for you to pick apart my life while you're here."

She fixes me with her piercing gaze.

"Are you upset with any of my performance on this case?" she questions.

When I don't answer, she continues.

"Has my behavior impacted my ability to work this case to your satisfaction? Work it to your standards?"

"Your performance has been impeccable," I answer honestly. "Just like it always is. But, Sara-"

"No," Sara stops me. "We're here to work the case. So, if you don't mind, I simply don't feel the need to listen to you critique my life while we do it."

"Fuck you, Sara," I get out, feeling my own temper simmering deep inside.

I don't know how she does it, but Sara has such an innate ability to frustrate the hell out of me. She's so damn stubborn, guarded. It drives someone like me, who lives their life relatively openly, absolutely nuts. What's the big deal about letting people get to know you?

Sara fixes me with one last look before she resumes her slicing.

I watch her in anger, before giving up and turning to head back to the guest room and get changed for the day. We still have about an hour before shift, but something tells me despite Sara's late night, the workaholic is going to want to head in early. And, if there's one thing she's right about, we need to get this damn case solved.

My retreat, however, is cut short when I hear a soft curse and the slicing sounds come to a quick halt.

I wait a moment, not hearing anything more.

"Sara?" I question.

Hearing nothing, I turn around and make my way back to the kitchen.

Sara is standing at the sink, her back to me as she holds something in the sink.

Stepping closer, I realize what she's holding is her own hand.

Her own bloody hand.

"Jesus, Sara," I get out. "What did you do?"

She shoots me a look that infers she is questioning my mental acuity.

"It was rhetorical," I mutter, stepping closer to get a better look. "Let me see."

Sara doesn't move.

"Let me see."

Nothing.

"So help me God," I get out. "Not everything has to be a battle, Sara. Just let me see."

I take a long, deep breath.

"Please."

Closing her eyes and appearing to gather her own dark emotions, Sara finally moves her hand away.

Taking her injured hand, I gently open her fingers, revealing a decent gash down her palm.

Angling it toward the light, I get a better view.

"This looks deep, Sara."

"It'll be fine," she states, pulling back her hand and grabbing a dish towel.

"No, stop," I counter in horror, all but ripping the towel from her fingers.

At her questioning gaze, I wave the towel between us.

"You have no idea what's on this," I tell her. "You could've used this to wipe of the dirty counter or clean the stove."

She raises a brow.

"You want your hand to get infected and fall off?"

Sara's other brow now joins her first.

"God damn it, Sidle," I all but seethe through my teeth. "Humor me? Please? For once?"

She looks less than convinced.

"You stop behaving like a five year old and let me take care of your hand, and I'll…." I hesitate, thinking. "I'll treat you to coffee."

She looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Real coffee," I continue. "From that whole bean hippie plant eater place you like."

Sara stares at me, working very hard to keep her face neutral at my description. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"Keep laughing, Sidle," I shrug. "Offer expires in fifteen seconds."

She sobers, eyes narrowing as she contemplates her options.

"Coffee…" she thinks aloud. "And the doughnut of my choice."

She meets my questioning gaze.

"Pieces of my flesh are likely lodged somewhere in my breakfast apple," she offers.

"What is wrong with you…" I breathe out, shaking my head. "Yes, Sara, fine. Any doughnut of your choice."

She ponders this.

"Five seconds."

Sara nods.

"Deal."

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

We both turn as we enter the lab, my eyes falling on Finn who's walking through the hall with Morgan.

"Catherine stabbed me," Sara answers deadpan. "But then she gave me a doughnut, so all's forgiven."

Finn raises her brows while Morgan snorts.

"Reconsidering your housing situation?" the youngest CSI asks.

"You have no idea," Sara and I both answer in unison.

And so we continue to joke, doing what we always do. Ignoring the fight we had, moving out of a place of anger to one of neutrality.

Always moving past. But never resolving.

It is what it is, and for now I think I need to accept that and move forward.

Sara's right, I didn't come here to try to change her or critique her life. It's not fair of me to ask the things of her that I'm already asking, and then on top of it expect her to become a different person just for me.

But, I think what's affecting me the most is realizing just how distant Sara has become towards me. There was a time, close to when I left, that she had slowly opened up to me. Granted, she was still overall a closed book, but there was more…trust…between us.

Now, it's like she trusts me as much as she'd trust any FBI suit coming in to work a case with her.

And, that reality is painful to to see.

My thoughts are interrupted as we reach the layout room and the sound of a phone ringing cuts through the silence.

This time, it's mine.

"Willows."

Going pale, I listen to the call.

Sara glances at me in question, eyes concerned as she looks at my reaction to the call.

Listening, I pull the phone from my ear when the call disconnects.

"Catherine?" Sara asks.

"I thought it was a wrong number."

"What?"

"This call," I get out, still stunned. "I got the same call at the beginning of the case. I thought it was a wrong number. Now…"

"Who was it?"

"No one," I answer, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. "It's just this weird clicking noise in the background."

Sara watches me, the concern on her face clear to read.

"Do you remember what the clicks sounded like? Or how many?"

"Better."

Moving up to the computer, I disconnect the speaker jack and plug it into my phone.

"All calls received on our department phones are automatically recorded."

Sara raises her brows. "I'll have to remember that."

I shoot her a look. Getting to my recorded calls, I select the most recent one and press play.

The sound of the eerie clicking now fills the room.

Sara narrows her eyes, concentrating.

The clicks are in a pattern that keep repeating over and over again.

"Do you still have the first call?" Sara questions over the clicking.

"No," I shake my head. "The calls are only kept for thirty days before the phone deletes the ones you haven't saved. I didn't think at the time…"

"Of course not," Sara answers, trying to make me feel better.

The call ends, silence now filling the room.

"Play it again?" Sara requests quietly.

Doing so, we both listen to it in its entirety.

"We need to get this to Archie," she states when it finishes. "It could be nothing, unrelated…"

"Or," I finish for her. "It could be yet another message from my secret admirer."

Sara takes a deep breath, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.

It's in moments like this, seeing her concern for me and her determined features, that I'm glad, despite all our issues, that Sara is here, working this case beside me. I know she cares, and Sara is beyond loyal. I know she'd do anything for a member of the team, and thankfully that still includes me.

This is the exact reason I chose her. Because, despite her feelings towards me, I still wholeheartedly trust her.

"One last time," she requests.

Hitting play, we both listen.

"What're you thinking?" I ask, recognizing the look on her face that means she's working her way through a theory.

"Clicking noises as messages always make me think Morse Code."

"And?"

She shrugs, "If it's meant to be Morse Code, it's the letter B. Repeated over and over again."

"Meaning?"

Sara continues to think.

"Could mean a million things…" she says, eyes narrowed in thought.

I wait her out, knowing she's considering multiple options, running them all through her mind.

"And," she says slowly, thinking aloud. "Since it's an audio message, it could mean that it's the B side."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we need to listen to the A side. Since it's not a cassette or something we physically flip, I think we need to listen to it backwards."

"Can we do that?" I ask, staring at my phone.

"We can if we invert the file."

Shaking my head, I hold out my phone to her. "Please. Before I try something and the whole thing bursts into flames."

Smiling slightly, Sara takes my phone, taking a few moments to figure it out.

Then, she looks over at me. "Ready?"

I nod, and she plays the file.

When I hear the clicks in reverse, the blood drains from my body so quickly that I grab the table before I pass out.

Reaching over, Sara grabs me tightly as well, looking at me in concern as the file finishes.

Helping me to a chair, she waits.

"It's so stupid, and maybe not even what it's meant to be…"

"Catherine…"

"When I worked here, at my old house, I had this awful alarm clock in my bedroom. It wouldn't beep evenly like a normal clock, it had this awkward pattern to it that drove me nuts in the mornings."

"That's the pattern?" Sara asks, eyebrows raised.

"That's the exact pattern," I confirm. "I woke up to that damn thing every day for years. I'd recognize it anywhere."

Sara nods, clenching her good hand into a fist.

"He was in my house," I choke out. "He was in my _bedroom, _and I never knew."

Sara's jaw is tight, her furious expression letting me know she had already come to that realization.

"What the hell is he trying to say?" I ask, voice tight and, despite my best efforts, holding an edge of fear.

Sara lets out a deep breath, own features stark.

"He's telling you to wake up, to open your eyes and look around you."

"And see what?"

Sara shakes her head darkly.

"I have no idea."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you for the continued support. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 7

_"The highway of the upright avoids evil; those who guard their ways preserve their lives."_

_Proverbs 16: 17_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"No, absolutely not."

Sara opens her eyes, glancing up at me in the darkness.

"Get up."

"Catherine?" she questions, clearing her throat.

"You're not sleeping on the couch."

"I'm not," she states innocently, glancing around. "I'm just…"

Her voice trails off as she tries to think.

"Just what?" I encourage her, crossing my arms over my chest.

After another moment of silence, I reach down.

"Come on," I pull her upwards. "You're going back to your room to sleep in your bed."

Getting to her feet, Sara moves out of my grip.

"Sara," I state sternly. "You can't stay watch out here all night. You need rest."

She turns away, knowing I've seen right through her and what she's out here doing. She was quiet most of shift today after learning about the phone calls, and didn't say much either when we got back to her place. One thing she did do, though, was never leave my side.

Though she would likely never admit it, as the brunette doesn't often share her emotions, I can tell the revelation about this monster haven gotten so close to me has rattled her. Her demeanor today has been stoic bordering on angry.

"Come on," I state, taking her by the arm. "I'll be fine."

All but forcing her into her bed, I head back to my own.

About an hour later, when I get up to get some water after a bout of tossing and turning, I nearly stumble over something outside my door.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Glancing down, I look at Sara, the brunette propped up against the wall outside my door, head bent at an awkward angle and eyes closed.

Shaking my own head, I smile before preparing myself for what I know from experience is about to happen.

Positioning myself along the side of her, I shake her shoulder.

This time, I'm prepared when her gun swings around to face me, and I immediately jerk her arm down and into my knee, forcing her to drop the weapon.

As she pushes around to grab me, I sidestep her and reverse our positions, all but shoving her up and into the wall behind her.

"Sara," I call sternly. "Stop, it's me."

Hearing my voice, she immediately goes still. Arms raising, she holds them in a position of surrender, keeping them far from me.

Feeling her heavy breathing under my hands, I wait a few minutes.

"You good?" I question when I feel her breathing slow.

She nods, looking away.

Taking my hands off her, I back off. Picking up her weapon, I hold it out.

"I believe this is yours."

Sara takes it silently, clearing the chamber and placing the safety back on.

She remains quiet, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," she eventually states. "I just…"

"I know," I whisper, reaching out to turn her face gently towards mine. "I know."

She finally meets my gaze, jaw tight under my fingers.

"We need to come up with a better solution, though," I tell her. "You can't keep doing this, sweetheart. I know for a fact you haven't slept properly in days."

Her body remains tense and silence stretches between us.

"What do you propose?"

"There's plenty of room in there for both of us."

Sara's the only person I know who chose to use the larger, master bedroom as her guest room, keeping the smaller bedroom for herself.

Sara, if possible, gets even tenser at my suggestion, her dark eyes hard to read in the dim nighttime lighting.

"What?"

"You heard me," I tell her, not backing down. "There's a bed that can easily fit both of us. Safety in numbers, and you can actually get some sleep knowing where I am and that I'm safe."

Sara shakes her head as best she can under my grip, making me realize I'm still holding her.

"What?" I question. "You have a better idea?"

She thinks for second or two, then nods.

"That room has a window seat."

I smile, quirking my head. "A compromise?"

Sara nods, "A compromise."

Letting her go, I squeeze her shoulders before stepping away.

"Deal."

Sara straightens out her t-shirt, nodding as she tries to subtly place her gun back into the back of her boxer shorts.

Raising a brow, I don't comment as I head to the kitchen and grab us both some water.

"Your hand okay?" I question over my shoulder as I see her flexing her fingers.

She nods, accepting the water I hand her.

"Sorry," I continue, knowing my disarming her hurt, whether she's willing to admit it or not. "Didn't mean to kung fu you – but also didn't want to get a bullet through my face."

Sara nods. "It's fine."

It's clear that her quiet demeanor is still in place, and so I let her be.

Drinking silently, Sara finishes her water first and heads to the couch to grab a pillow and the throw blanket along the back.

Joining her back in the room, I get situated back in bed as she does the same on the window seat.

"You sure?" I ask her, offering her one last out as I see her fold her tall frame awkwardly into the small space.

"Positive," she states, sending me a small smile. "I'm fine, Catherine, really."

"Alright," I give in, knowing I can't force the stubborn brunette to do anything she doesn't want to do.

Turning off the bedside light, I pull the covers tightly around me.

Though I'll never admit it to Sara, as I don't want to encourage these cockeyed plans of hers, I feel so much better having her here in the same room with me.

Closing my eyes, for the first time since this case began I let myself completely relax.

"Goodnight, Sar."

"Night," she responds in the darkness.

* * *

"Fifth and Oriel."

Sara nods, silently directing the car through traffic.

Our early morning was interrupted by a phone call I knew was bound to be coming.

A body had been found, fitting the profile for another victim.

We've been working ourselves ragged on this case, pursuing every lead we could think of, but we're moving too slowly and the killer is making us pay the price.

No, he's making innocent girls pay the price.

"Cath?" Sara questions gently, voice drawing me out of my haze.

I see what she does, a small gathering of people at the end of the street, facing what looks like a back alley.

Parking the car, we grab our supplies and approach.

"Excuse me."

Nothing more than a few glances at us, the onlookers turn their gazes immediately back to the action unfolding in the alley.

"Excuse me!" I try louder this time.

One lady shuffles a couple steps to her left, and that's it.

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

Now, I have every person looking over at me with wide eyes.

Smirking, Sara pulls her sunglasses over her eyes.

"Pardon us," she offers, trying to keep the smile from her face, taking advantage of the stunned crowd and making quick work of the obstacle of people.

Following suit, I meet her on the other side.

"Thank you," I halfheartedly toss over my shoulder as we walk under the crime scene tape. "Fuckers."

Sara snorts, nodding to Brass.

Then, taking a deep breath, we face the scene before us, expressions now dead sober.

"Heather Benton," Brass states, tucking his notebook in his suit pocket. "Senior at Las Vegas High."

I quirk a brow. "School's in session, what the hell is she doing all the way out here in the middle of the week?"

Brass shakes his head. "Not sure, but the impression I'm getting from the school is that it would have been odder to have found her in class."

"Skipper?"

He nods, "Was getting close to expulsion for attendance violations."

"I'll never get it," I state, pulling on gloves. "Public education is being given to you completely free. A free ticket out of whatever crappy situation you're in, and yet kids would rather throw their chances away on the streets, keeping them stuck in the life they're dying to get away from."

"Sometimes those same crappy situations are what keeps someone on the streets," Sara's offers quietly, gaze focused intently on the body. "Some situations make school feel more dangerous than the world out on the streets."

"I don't know about that, Harvard," I offer with a snort. "But something sure did attract her here it seems."

Sara turns, and the hurt expression that briefly crosses her features catches me off guard. Before I can comment, the expression is gone and she pushes her sunglasses back into place and walks away to examine the body.

"Did I…?" I question, furrowing my brows as I face Brass.

He shrugs, knowing better than to get involved.

"Alright," he states. "Scene's been cleared, it's all yours."

"Thanks," I mutter, feeling him walk away as I move to join the brunette.

* * *

"Seems consistent," I breathe out in exhaustion as we approach the Tahoe.

Sara nods, rubbing her temples. "It's him."

Placing our kits in the back, we start the return drive to the lab.

"Hey, Sara," I call out after a few moments of silence.

"Hmm?"

"Back at the scene, I didn't mean to offend you with my Harvard comment…"

"What?" she questions, clearly pulled from her thoughts by my unexpected statement.

"I didn't mean it badly," I tell her. "But it was crass, and I'm sorry."

Sara shakes her head, "It's fine."

"I really am sorry," I tell her in response to her quick brush off.

She doesn't answer, and I narrow my eyes in frustration. I know Sara doesn't typically like to admit when something's hurt her, but she's usually at least more receptive than this.

In fact, right now, she's all but ignoring me.

"Sara."

Nothing.

"Sara Sidle."

Holding up a hand, she narrows her eyes, assessing the area before pulling the Tahoe to the side of the road.

"What are you…"

My words are cut off when Sara unbuckles herself and draws her gun.

"Sa-"

Shaking her head fiercely, I catch the hint, falling completely silent.

Hand over my own gun, I'm still not sure what it is I'm supposed to be listening for, but her actions have sure as hell got me on full alert.

Eyes narrowed, Sara tightens her grip on her gun.

"Get out of the car."

I raise my brows at her words, but her tone has me reaching for my belt.

This is where I know I need to trust Sara and not ask questions.

Slowly getting out of the car, I leave my door open, hand on my weapon as I glance around us to be sure we aren't attracting any unwanted attention.

Seeing the coast is clear so far, I turn back to see Sara moving to face the back seat.

Then, she slowly opens the driver door, getting out of the car and moving around the outside of the Tahoe to the side doors.

Cocking her gun, hesitates only a moment before pulling open the back door.

The world remains silent, no one moving, no one breathing.

Then, Sara slowly moves back, features pale.

"Sara?" I call in concern, starting to approach.

Reaching me, Sara turns me away from the vehicle, moving us to the front of the Tahoe.

I can feel her hand shaking through the material of my shirt.

"Sara…please…"

She swallows, shifting her gun to her left hand. Then, without warning, she turns and hits the front of the Tahoe with her right. She gets in another punch before my body reacts and I grab her arm.

"Sara, stop!" I yell at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

She pushes away from me, stepping over towards the sidewalk, hands atop her head as she tries to control her shaky breathing.

"Sara," I breathe out with my own shaky breaths. "What…"

Finally turning back around, Sara has a hard time meeting my gaze, and I can see the younger woman physically fighting to keep her anger in check.

"There's another package."

My mind slowly works through her words.

"Another…" I trail off. "Where…not…"

I gesture to the Tahoe, my eyebrows nearing my hairline. "You mean…"

I swallow.

"In the Tahoe?" I finally get out.

"Yes."

"How…"

Sara clears her throat, swallowing tightly.

"I thought I smelled blood…when we got in…and …it just kept getting stronger…with the heat..."

"Fucking hell," I choke out.

I was expecting something soon, after all we did just find another body, and the packages always follow the bodies. But, I surely wasn't expecting something _this_ soon.

"How…" I get out. "That was a secure scene. Are you telling me one of those people there…"

"No," Sara shakes her head. "There's no way. There were people and cameras everywhere. We can get the security camera footage to verify, but no."

"Then how?" I question, shaking my head. "When?"

Sara's quiet, her eyes sorrowful as they finally meet mine.

"You're not suggesting…"

Sara only nods, her hand flexing absentmindedly as she tries to cope with the information she's giving me.

"Last night," Sara confirms, the brunette completing the statement lodged somewhere deep in my throat. "He was outside the house."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Hope everyone is well. Thank you for your continued support - means the world.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 8

"_And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch."_

_Mark 13:37_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Sara?"

Glancing over, Sara stands, putting out her cigarette.

"Hey," she offers, voice quiet.

"You alright?"

After the latest package discovered in our Tahoe, we've spent hours combing over every inch of her car, the package, the latest victim. Working ourselves ragged to find just one clue, one slip up, one piece of evidence to go off of.

"Yeah," she says, giving me a small smile. "Just needed a breather."

I nod, moving up closer. "Still confused as to how you can keep comparing your smoking to 'getting fresh air' and taking a 'breather,' but I get your point."

"You okay?" she asks me, turning the conversation away from her as I sit next to her on the bench outside the lab.

"I guess," I state honestly. "Still a bit numb, really."

She's quiet, her expression understanding.

"Oh, hey," I suddenly remember. "Before I forget, my mother wants to do dinner. Something about thinking it's 'deplorable' that I'm 'wasting' my chances to see her while I'm here."

Sara smiles slightly, "Sounds like your mother."

Then, she takes in a deep breath. "That's fine, we can tell Brass to move the guys from my place to yours until you get back."

I shake my head, "No, Sar, she wants to have dinner with _both_ of us."

Sara's eyes widen, then narrow. "No, she doesn't."

I pull out my phone. "You want to call and ask her?"

She stares at the device, apparently considering calling me on what she thinks is a bluff.

"Trust me," I state with a laugh. "I was as shocked as you are, but she was adamant."

"It's your time with your mother," Sara says. "You two should spend it together. Alone."

"Look," I tell her. "It's been a hellish day, a hellish week, and I understand if the last place you want to be is at a dinner with my mother. Really. But, she really does want you there."

Sara's quiet, her fingers tapping along the edge of her lighter.

"Do _you _want me there?"

"Yes."

No hesitation, no thought.

Sara takes in a deep breath and nods.

"Then I'll be there."

* * *

"You forget something?"

I glance down at my arms, the bottle of wine and the keys they hold.

"No…"

My mother doesn't step aside, leaving me standing in the doorway. She looks pointedly behind me.

I look around, finally realizing what she's hinting at.

"Sara's on her way, she had to finish up a couple things at the lab."

My mother raises a speculative brow before finally moving out of my way.

"Hello to you too, mother," I shake my head as I place the wine on the counter.

Helping her set out the dishes, the doorbell rings.

"I got it," I jump over towards the door before my mother can.

Opening the door, I let Sara in, smiling at the bottle of wine in her own hands.

"Thanks," I tell her. Leaning in, I think I surprise us both when I lean in and kiss her on the cheek. "And thanks for coming," I offer quietly near her ear.

"Sure," she clears her throat, taking a slight step away.

"Sara!" my mother calls excitedly behind me. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Me too," Sara answers, putting a smile on her face. "This is for you."

Accepting the wine, my mother nods her approval. "Good choice."

We settle in for dinner, and the meal goes surprisingly better than I had anticipated. My mother, for the most part, behaved herself, only asking Sara a couple of truly uncomfortable questions.

Sara, for her part, handled the whole thing with her characteristic calm, tolerating both my mother and her questions with grace.

The brunette even offered to do the dishes, leaving my mother and I to put out the coffee and dessert.

"So," my mother states quietly, placing out the coffee mugs. "How long?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, actually I don't…"

"You and Sara."

"What about me and Sara?"

"How long have the two of you been together?"

I drop the mug I'm holding, sending it thunking to the table.

"What?!" I demand in a stern whisper so the brunette in the kitchen doesn't hear me. "What in the hell are you talking about?!"

"Come on, Cathy," my mother rolls her eyes. "I'm not blind. That girl is a walking embodiment of your type."

"You're crazy," I shake my head. "I don't even have a type."

"Please," my mom laughs. "I can tell you exactly who your type is…"

She ticks off each word on her hand. "Tall, gorgeous, dark, broody, mysterious…"

She points towards the kitchen. "And that girl in there is everything you go for."

I point towards the kitchen as well. "Except that she's a girl!"

My mother snorts. "Come on, Cathy. You and I both know that's never been a limiting factor for you."

My eyes are so huge they must be about ready to fall out of my face.

"Look," my mother gets serious. "She's everything you go for. But you need to be careful."

"Careful? What are you…"

"Sara seems like a nice person," my mother continues. "But I know what inner darkness looks like, and that girl has it in spades."

"Inner…what are-"

"I'm serious, Cathy," my mother cuts me off again. "I saw what you went through with those jerks you were always going with. People like that are no good to you."

"Sara's nothing like those people."

"You want to tell me those scrapes on her knuckles aren't from punching someone or something?" my mother challenges. "Not to mention whatever is under the bandage across her hand…"

"She cut herself slicing an apple…"

"On her knuckles, too?"

I look away, and my mother has her answer.

"All I'm saying-"

"All _I'm _saying," this time I cut my mother off. "Is that this conversation is irrelevant."

I send her a pointed look. "We're not together. Sara and I…" I trail off. "We barely even speak," I eventually finish, letting out a breath. "There's nothing like what you're insinuating between the two of us."

"Just be careful. I'm telling you now, that girl is trouble. And I think deep down you know it, too," my mother warns, then straightens up as we hear the kitchen water shut off.

The remainder of the night goes pretty quickly, and Sara and I are soon saying our goodbyes to my mother.

After thanking her for dinner, Sara steps out onto the porch.

"Goodnight mom," I offer, giving her a kiss.

"Goodnight," she kisses me back. "Remember what I said."

She gives me a stern look before she glances behind me.

"Now go get Sara in the car before she gets taken up by the wind."

I shake my head, knowing only my mother could end a nice dinner with a comment about someone's weight.

* * *

"How long are we going to keep doing this?"

I hear a slight shuffling, and can practically see Sara turning her head towards me in the darkness.

"Huh?"

"Laying here, pretending we're asleep…"

I hear Sara sigh.

"I'm sorry," she offers, voice a whisper in the darkness. "I thought you may have actually been asleep."

"I wish," I tell her. "I just can't stop thinking."

She's quiet, and I know she's likely assuming I'm thinking about this case. But, in reality, I'm thinking about her. About what my mother said.

It's not that I've never noticed how beautiful is. How she not only physically fits my type, but that her personality does as well. She's steady, calm, selfless, loyal.

Everything I've never had in a lover.

But, she's always been Sara. The one person with whom my conversations could turn into epic fights. The one person who I can't for the life of me get to let me in. The person who all but flinches at my touch.

The one person who couldn't be more contradictory to me.

I've never allowed my thoughts to travel down that road with Sara before, and I refuse to now. We're not a good match, plain and simple. And, right now the timing couldn't be worse for a number of reasons.

We don't need any distractions, and I vow to make this the first and last night I lose sleep over this topic.

"You know Brass has like six guys out there, right?"

Sara doesn't respond for awhile.

"He had guys out last night, too," she finally states.

The silence stretches between us, the clock ticking silently on the wall.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hope everyone is well. And, katvrah, you will get your answer soon :) **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 9

_"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones._  
_ 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs._  
_ Setting fire to our insides for fun."_

_Daughter - "Youth"_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

When I wake up, seeing the rays of sun filtering through the blinds, I take in the view of the early morning around me. Raising a brow, I note in surprise that Sara isn't there. She's usually awake when I wake up, yes, but she's also usually still in the room.

Stretching and glancing at the clock, I drag myself out of bed. It's been awhile since I've slept for more than just a couple hours a night. In fact, I think my last good nights sleep was in Washington the night before I got that damn first package. Last night, experiencing all the thoughts running through my head, I never expected to get any decent sleep at all.

But, at some point, my exhaustion must have overtaken my overactive imagination, allowing me to finally get the sleep I've been desperately needing.

Glancing at Sara's empty spot near the window, I fear that the brunette wasn't as fortunate.

Moving quietly through her house, I walk around, not finding her in any of the rooms.

For the first time, her absence starts to cause me anxiety. I'd assumed she'd gotten up early, but what if something else happened?

Heart rate picking up, I finally think to look outside the house.

Sure enough, in the back yard, sitting along the edge of a very alluring pool is Sara.

This is the first time I've really had the chance to observe her backyard during daylight, and it's clear that this is an area of the house the brunette paid particular attention to.

In the center is a large lap pool, deep colored stonework surrounding the water. The yard itself has a plethora of vegetation, offering privacy from her neighbors and a feeling of greenery and lushness that one doesn't often get in Vegas.

"Good morning," I greet, watching Sara turn to face me in response to my voice.

"Morning."

Noting her wet hair and the towel draped over her shoulders, I gesture to the pool.

"Go for a morning swim?"

"Yeah," she responds, turning her eyes back to the water.

I can see the brunette is feeling particularly talkative today.

Though, judging from her appearance I think her silence has more to do with exhaustion than anything else.

It's become clear to me that Sara doesn't feel comfortable falling asleep at night, likely feeling some sort of protective obligation to stay awake and watch over me. But, that's not something she should feel obligated to do, and it's not something that's sustainable.

Seeing her downcast expression, however, I know now isn't the time to bring up the issue. The poor girl looks about ready to fall over into the water.

"Want to grab some breakfast and head in?" I offer.

If I can't address the sleep issue right now, perhaps I can work towards the weight loss issue. The brunette's been working herself ragged helping me, the least I can do is try to help her as well while I'm here.

"I already ate, but go ahead and grab something."

Or not.

Studying her, I debate for a good minute or so whether to push any of the issues circling through my head. Ultimately, I decide that we have a long day ahead of us, and I'd rather start it off without an argument.

There will be plenty of time for all that later.

* * *

"Are you going to share?"

"Hmm?" Sara answers distractedly, eyes staring at the paper in her hands.

"I accidentally used your toothbrush this morning."

"Uh huh…"

"There's a spider in your hair."

"Uh huh…"

"I put meat in your coffee."

"Mmm hmm."

"I forgot to put on underwear."

Sara finally furrows her brows, looking up at me with a confused expression.

"What are we talking about?"

"Oh nothing," I shrug. "Just talking to myself over here."

"I'm sorry," Sara breathes out, putting the paper down. "I guess I was a bit lost in thought."

"That's one way of putting it," I mutter. "But," I clear my throat, "you were obviously thinking hard about something. Care to share?"

Sara shrugs, eyes returning to the paper. "It's a list of the evidence on this case. I keep thinking there must be a way to use just one item on this list to give us some answers. I just…"

"Just what?"

"I don't know, it's just something I read once."

"Which was?"

"No," she shakes her head. "It hasn't been proven. Hell, it's barely even a theory. It was just one study, with such a small sample size. Hardly credible."

"Sara."

"We need something better, the theory is sound, but in practice the outcome is completely variable, and definitely not admissible in court-"

"Sara!"

Head snapping up, she looks at me. Seeing my expression, she swallows, rubbing her temples.

"There was an article about sampling items not predicted to carry DNA evidence for DNA."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the previous constraints for DNA mediums and exposure levels may be too conservative."

"Meaning?"

Sara glances down the list before putting it to the side, reaching out to grab the evidence bag holding the packaging from our latest present from the killer.

"We tested the paper packaging and tape for DNA and fingerprints."

"There was nothing."

"He's too smart for that," Sara nods. "But we didn't look at the rest of the package."

This time I remain silent, waiting for her to continue.

"If you're leaning over this package, trying to carefully wrap it without leaving any DNA evidence behind, what is one thing you can't control?"

"Well, potential sources of DNA would be skin, saliva, blood…none of which were evident."

"What else is a source of DNA?"

I shrug, "Tears, urine…"

Sara leans over the package, imitating our killer trying to package everything precisely.

Looking at her, I shake my head. "You can't be serious…"

Sara straightens up, her expression telling me just how serious she is.

"The article used swabs from different materials individuals exhaled on or close to. The threshold for DNA retrieval from the saliva in someone's exhalations was shockingly low for certain mediums. Mediums which included…"

She gestures to the thick brown packaging paper.

"Look," she holds up her hands at my expression. "I know it's crazy."

I think for a few moments before shaking my head. "It may be crazy but right now it's all we got. What's there to lose?"

Sara's eyes remain on mine for a minute before she cuts open the evidence seal, putting on gloves before reaching inside to retrieve the packaging material from inside the evidence bag.

Taking multiple swabs from multiple locations, Sara neatly lays them out, labeling each one before passing them down to me.

Collecting them all together, I excuse myself to bring them directly to the DNA lab.

This case has us grasping at straws, playing defense and waiting for the killer to act again before we have a new lead to pursue.

If there's any shot at obtain any sort of advantage, I'm more than willing to take it. Even if the method is insane.

* * *

Waiting for the DNA to run, Sara and I retreated to the break room, grabbing a coffee and trying to distract ourselves from all our hopes currently swirling through chemical analyses.

Settled in the corner reading a forensics journal, Sara's been quiet. That's why, while engrossed in my own journal, I'm startled when I hear her groan.

Looking over, I see her head propped up on her hand, but instead of reading the article on the table in front of her, her eyes are closed.

"Sara?"

"He was alone…"

Furrowing my brows, I recall the similar scene in the locker room. It's evident that Sara's finally succumbed to her exhaustion and is asleep, and once again her dreams seem to be anything but pleasant.

"Stop…bleeding curtains…"

"Sara…" I call gently.

"You have the knife…"

"Sara, sweetheart…"

"You have to be more forceful that that."

Glancing up in surprise at the voice, my eyes fall on Morgan, standing in the doorway watching the brunette with a sad expression.

"This happen often?" I raise a brow, glancing between her and the brunette.

"A couple times," Morgan answers distractedly, still watching Sara.

"When did they start?"

I've known Sara nearly ten years, and I can say I've only caught her sleeping a handful of times, and she certainly didn't have nightmares like this.

At least not that I knew about.

Morgan shrugs, and I can tell she's hesitant about betraying her friend. She's always looked up to the brunette, and her and Sara have always had a special friendship ever since the blonde came to Vegas.

"Morgan, I'm only asking because I'm concerned. I've…" I trail off, also battling my loyalties to Sara. "I've noticed some things as well."

Morgan considers my words, and in the end she seems to decide that this is her chance to finally discuss her concerns with someone else who shares them.

"Since Basderic."

I nod, having suspected this.

"Do you think they're related, that they're about what he did to her?"

Morgan is silent for a bit.

"I don't know," she eventually answers. "Maybe, partly," she trails off. "But I think it's more than that."

I look over at Sara, letting out a long breath.

"So do I," I whisper.

Morgan takes a hesitant step further into the room.

"The guys don't know," she tells me, her gaze now moving to mine. "She'd kill me if they found out."

"I don't plan on making this public knowledge," I tell her. "But, Morgan…this…she…" I shake my head tensely. "Something isn't right. I'm worried about her."

I trail off, and the young blonde nods.

"I know." She swallows tightly. "Me too."

I see the sorrow in her expression, the concern and care as she watches Sara as the brunette continues to struggle in her sleep.

"Do you know anything about the phone calls she's been getting?"

I'm not proud of digging into Sara's personal life like this, but this may be my one chance to get some answers, because Lord knows the brunette has been anything but forthcoming.

Morgan looks over, a bit surprised.

"She's still getting them?"

"Who are they from?"

Morgan shakes her head. "I don't know, I just noticed her keep avoiding calls when we would be working together. They stopped though. Or at least I thought they had…"

Morgan and I both watch Sara, the brunette's expression pained and tense.

"We should wake her."

Morgan nods, grimacing as Sara's injured hand clenches tightly into a fist.

"You mind if I do it?" she questions quietly.

"Not at all," I raise my hands, thinking of the disaster it was the last time I tried to wake her.

Moving up alongside Sara, Morgan gently places one hand on Sara's back while the other takes hold of the wrist of her free hand.

Watching her practiced movements, I wonder just how many times Morgan has caught Sara like this. I think her "couple times" answer was a bit of a white lie.

"Sara," Morgan states gently near her ear.

Sara stirs, but doesn't wake.

"I'm sorry, Sar," Morgan breathes out.

Then, without warning, she uses the hand on her back to grab Sara by the back of her shirt. Together with the hand gripping her wrist, Morgan swiftly pulls Sara upward to her feet.

Jerking awake, Sara immediately fights against the hands grabbing her, but Morgan is prepared for this, pushing Sara swiftly into the counter behind them, keeping her body restrained against the hard surface.

"Sara," Morgan calls. "Relax, it's me."

Sara's eyes meet Morgan's, the stoic brunette's jaw tensing tightly as she fights to calm her breathing.

"I'm sorry," she gets out between ragged breaths.

"Shh," Morgan shakes her head. "Stop."

"No, you shouldn't have to-"

"Stop," Morgan repeats sternly. "We've been over this."

Sara remains quiet, but her expression holds all the remorse Morgan won't let her voice.

Moving her grip from restraining to supportive, Morgan gently squeezes Sara's hands before taking her hands off the brunette and moving back.

As she does, Sara notices me for the first time, her body tensing sharply as her eyes meet mine.

She knows I've seen everything that just happened, knows I've now witnessed for a second time one of her nightmares and her violent reaction to them.

Clearing her throat, Sara straightens to her full height.

"I'm…" she swallows, eyes now avoiding everyone's. "I'm going to go update DB on our progress on the case."

Not waiting for a response, she exits, leaving Morgan and I in concerned silence.

* * *

"Holy shit!"

Sara and DB both jerk their heads to face me. Sara had still been updating DB on our progress, and now both are staring at me from across the hall in his office.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim again, my eyes wide as I waive the paper in my hand. "Get in here!"

Sara smirks slightly while DB looks concerned for my health.

"Catherine?" DB raises a brow. "To what do we owe that warm invitation?"

I place the paper flat on the table, pushing it across to them.

Looking it over, Sara recognizes immediately what it is.

"Oh my God…" she breathes out. "It worked?"

"What worked?" DB questions, still reading over the report.

"Our hail Mary pass," I mutter, watching Sara's expression as she glances through the report.

"But wait," DB states. "This DNA result has multiple matches."

"Due to the low threshold of DNA being used," Sara explains, still looking over the report. "You have less markers to use for the algorithm, leaving you with the possibility for multiple partial matches. Hundreds, even."

"But we didn't get hundreds," I smile eagerly, feeling an excitement I haven't yet felt working this case. This is officially our first beneficial lead.

"No," DB agrees, now looking impressed. "You got four."

Sara turns, stepping up to the closest computer.

"Names?"

Giving her the information for the matches, she runs them through the system to bring up full reports.

Reading through the results, Sara's expression is focused.

"Not four, two," she looks up at me, for the first time looking hopeful. "One of the possible matches, James Vaughn, was a paramedic who died three years ago on duty responding to a car blaze. Another possible match, Fredrick Haverston, is in the system because he's currently serving a life prison sentence for grand larceny."

"That leaves two," I breathe out.

Sara nods, taking a deep breath.

"We have Paul Kenner, a commercial truck driver. Did some brief time for mostly petty crimes like vandalism of a competitor's vehicle and public intoxication. Got laid off from his truck company. No current address listed."

Sara clicks through more screens.

"Last match is a different story. Charles Buford. CEO of a fortune 500 company. In the system because he used to work for a government contractor." Sara glances up. "He's headquartered out of Vegas."

We're all silent, taking in the information.

"There's always the chance it's neither of these guys," I state. "Could be someone who's not in the system."

"True," DB agrees. "But if the DNA matches were limited to only four possibilities, it indicates the matches must be relatively specific. The killer could very well be one of these two guys, and you may have your first real shot at nailing this bastard."

Sara's and my eyes meet, both registering the implications of this moment. Both excited, nervous, and hesitant to get our hopes up.

"I just can't believe this worked in the first place," I shake my head, mouth spreading into a smile as I watch the brunette.

Approaching her, despite our awkward parting earlier, I can't help myself from pulling her into a hug and placing a grateful kiss into her hair.

"I always knew you were a genius," I smile. "But I underestimated the true capabilities of that hard head of yours."

Sara snorts, rolling her eyes as DB laughs.

I think it's the first time any of us have genuinely smiled in a long time.

And, damn, does it feel good.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well and your weeks are starting off okay. Thanks, as always, to those who take the time to review, it is much much much appreciated.**

**And, katvrah, your answer comes next chapter :)**

**Take care and enjoy. **

* * *

CHAPTER 10**  
**

_"I told him I was going to betray you, and betray Lyra, and he believed me because I was corrupt and full of wickedness; he looked so deep I felt sure he'd see the truth. But I lied too well. I was lying with every nerve and fiber and everything I'd ever done...I wanted him to find no good in me, and he didn't. There is none."  
_

_-Philip Pullman - "The Amber Spyglass"_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Yawning, I can't believe how tired I am.

Sara and I spent all day tracking down Paul Kenner and Charles Buford, gathering as much information as we could about their lives, their families, their pasts.

We each took one person, focusing all our attention, all our energy on dissecting every last bit of his life. No stone was left unturned, no finding overlooked.

Then, a good two hours past shift, we spent another solid hour combining our findings, sharing everything we learned with the other.

By the time we finished, the lab was deserted, everyone from night shift having gone home long ago.

Knowing we had only a couple hours before the start of next shift, we debated not going home at all. But, in the end, our exhaustion won out, and we decided to at least try to catch a quick nap.

Looking over, Sara is still passed out on the window seat, her tall frame hanging over the sides awkwardly.

Shaking my head, I swing my legs out of Sara's guest bed, trying to straighten out my hair.

Exiting the room, I stifle yet another yawn, wishing like hell we didn't have to head back into work in about thirty minutes.

Pinching my temples, I open my eyes.

And, I nearly shit myself.

"What-"

I startle, grabbing towards my hip out of habit, but, I grab only my pajama pants.

"Hi, darling!"

"Mother!" I yell, looking around. "What in the hell are you doing here, and how the hell did you get in?!"

My mother looks at me like I've lost my marbles.

"I just told the cops out front I was your mother, they let me in."

I remind myself to have a stern talk with Brass' officers.

"You can't just walk in here," I exclaim. "This is Sara's home!"

"So," my mother shrugs. "This is where you're staying, so this is also your home for the time being."

She looks me over. "I wanted to visit my daughter."

"We have to get to work," I shake my head. "This isn't a good time."

She looks at me sternly, "Don't be disrespectful, Cathy."

Hearing a shuffling, I see Sara enter the kitchen, hair disheveled and a confused expression on her face.

Hazel eyes glancing at us, she shifts her gaze between me and my mother.

"Ms. Flynn?" she questions, trying to straighten her hair.

Her attempts prove to be about as hopeless as my own.

"Hello, Sara."

The mood is tense. No, it's beyond tense.

"I was just telling my mother that we unfortunately don't have a lot of time for a visit."

"Right," Sara offers awkwardly, clearly letting me take the lead.

She's wise enough to stay out of my mother's way.

"Want some breakfast?" my mother offers, gesturing to a bag near her on the counter. "My visit does have a benefit - I didn't just come to annoy you, like you apparently think."

Sara looks like she wants to disappear into the carpet.

"I, uh, think I'm going to grab a shower…" she eventually states when the silence between my mother and I stretches on.

"I was talking to you, too, Sara," my mother states tersely. "You look like you could stand to eat something."

"Mother!"

Sara tenses as she tugs at the hem of her boxers.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, Sara," my mother offers with a tight smile. "I'm simply concerned."

Sara's expression remains guarded. "Right. Thanks"

"We'll grab some coffee and take the food on the road with us," I intercede, trying to end this terrifically awkward encounter. "Thanks for bringing it."

"Yo-"

My mother's words are cut off as the sound of shattering glass rips through the room.

I hear cursing, and I'm not sure who of us is yelling.

Grabbing for my mother, I feel both of us shoved to the ground.

Head covered, more glass shatters and I register a weight on my back.

When the chaos ends, an eerie silence replaces it.

"Mother?" I question, trying to look up. "Mother?!"

"Cathy…" my mom's shaky voice comes from somewhere next to me.

Feeling the weight push off my back, I glance above me to see Sara cautiously lifting herself off my mother and I, moving into a crouch.

My mother and I look upward, slowly following her actions.

"Cathy…?" my mother demands more sternly now, terror evident in her tone. Her eyes are glued to mine.

Sara moves slightly away and I grab her by her t-shirt.

"Sara…" I warn.

"Our guys are out there," she says, trying to keep her voice low for my mother's sake. "My gun is in our room."

My mom raises her brows, terrified, but apparently not enough to fail to notice Sara's use of the word 'our.'

But, now so clearly isn't the time.

"Get behind the counter," Sara instructs, eyes now also addressing my mother. "There's no direct angle from the windows there."

"Sara…"

"Now," Sara states tersely, all but shoving my mother and I further into her kitchen.

Glancing around the shattered glass scattering her living room, Sara quickly assesses the scene before making a break for the bedroom.

Hearing a sudden explosion of more shattering glass, I cover my head.

"Sara!"

No answer.

"Sara! Answer me!"

Hearing the skittering and crunching of class, Sara skids back alongside us.

"Are you alright?!" I demand, looking her over.

"I'm fine," she assures me, voice distracted as she ushers us further into the corner of the counter.

Reaching out, she hands me her spare weapon, her own clutched tightly in her right hand.

"It's loaded," she tells me. "Safety's already off."

I nod, feeling my mother gasp beside me at the sight of a gun in her daughter's hand.

"What the hell is happening?" my mother demands. "Guns?! What is this?!"

"Bet you're regretting visiting now," I mumble, focusing on Sara.

"We need to contact Brass, find out what the hell's going on."

Sara nods, pulling out her phone which she must have also grabbed.

Our heads immediately lift when we hear the crunching of glass.

The crunching we both know exactly the source of.

Footsteps.

Sara pushes her phone towards me.

"Call Brass," she orders.

"Don't you dare."

Fixing me with a look, she shakes her head.

"We don't have time to debate this, Catherine. Keep your mother safe."

Without further comment, she checks her weapon for a quick second before taking a deep breath.

"Sara, don't…"

Shooting to her feet, Sara extends her weapon.

"Freeze!"

Her command is followed almost immediately by a gun shot.

"Sara!"

Jerking sidewise, Sara almost loses her balance before again extending her weapon.

Then, nothing.

Silence.

Confused as to why the hell she's just standing there, I check to be sure my mother is secure before standing as well, my own weapon outstretched and my breathing rapid.

Seeing the scene before me, the person pointing their gun at Sara, I curse.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

The rookie cop is so nervous the gun in his hand is shaking.

"Put it down!" I yell, eyes wide, wondering why the hell he's just standing there frozen.

Stunned, he jerks his arm away from Sara.

"Sorry," he gets out. "I'm so sorry…"

Sara removes her own weapon, moving to run her piercing gaze around the room.

"Are you alright?" the cop questions in terror. "Did I…did I hit you?"

Sara's barely paying attention at this point, dark eyes scanning the surroundings, noting the other cops now circling the house.

"Sara!" I yell to get her attention, reaching out towards her. "Are you hit?"

She shakes her head.

"No, missed me by a mile," she mumbles, eyes moving back to check on my mother.

Then, she turns to glance at me.

Looking me over, she curses.

"You're bleeding," she states, eyes on my feet.

Sure enough, there're small streaks of blood gathered near my feet, no doubt from the glass we're all standing in.

Looking over, I note her own feet and legs.

"So are you."

She doesn't seem to care, still on guard as she keeps glancing around.

"Officer," she addresses the still trembling cop. "Please take Ms. Willows outside to get her feet looked at. Avoid the glass."

He nods, eager to get out of her presence.

"Ma'am…" he gestures, giving me his arm so that I can step around the glass easier.

Sara sees the look I'm giving her.

"I'll be out in a second," she says. "I just want to check a couple things."

Shaking my head at the stubborn brunette, I watch another officer help my mother to her feet.

Both stepping outside, the cops are now surrounding the house, each working to clear the scene and comparing notes with one another.

"Catherine?"

Brass' voice draws my attention.

"Are you alright?" he questions anxiously, waving a paramedic over. "We just got here."

"Just some cuts on my feet from the glass," I look back towards my mother. "Not sure about my mom."

"We'll take care of her," Jim assures me.

Furrowing his brows, he looks around. "Where's Sara?"

"You know her," I roll my eyes. "Wanted to play cop for a while before heading out."

"Damn it, Sidle," Brass mutters.

Squeezing my shoulder, he lets the paramedic lead me towards the ambulance.

Looking around, he wastes no time heading inside, and I smile, knowing exactly who he's going in there after.

Sure enough, about two minutes later, Sara is being all but dragged from the house.

"Stop fighting me," I hear Brass order. "Or I'm going to fireman carry you to the ambulance."

Sara considers his threat before becoming slightly more compliant.

Moving her up alongside me, Brass sends me a look.

"Look who I found."

I shake my head at Sara as the paramedic cleaning the cuts on my feet gestures for Sara to have a seat.

The brunette remains standing.

Reaching out, I grab her by the waistband of her boxers. Shoving her next to me, I force her to sit at my side.

"What-"

"Don't even start," I warn her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

Another paramedic steps up, starting to work on Sara's legs.

"What's the story?" I ask her.

"Gun shots," she says. "Front and side windows. Likely used the distraction of your mother's request for entrance to get within proximity of the house. From then really just a matter of creating havoc and getting out of dodge while everyone's still ducking for cover."

"Our guy?"

Sara hesitates, eyes leaving mine.

"I don't know."

I angle my head around towards hers.

"Who else would it be?"

Silence.

"Sara."

"I don't know," she says.

I don't believe her for a second.

"We're done with this," I tell her. "Your evasion of whatever the hell is going on with you ends here."

She looks away.

I grab her face roughly, turning her around to face me.

"Someone just shot your house to hell," I grind out. "With me inside. We're done playing games."

Sara shoves away, knocking the paramedic working on her off balance.

"Hey," the paramedic calls, grabbing at the brunette.

That, however, only makes the situation worse, Sara shocking even me when she roughly pushes the paramedic off her.

"Hey!" I hear my paramedic yell, jumping in to help his partner. Grabbing at Sara, the brunette continues her struggles, shoving angrily at the newcomer.

"Get off me," she threatens, her tone menacing and firm.

The former something I rarely hear in the brunette's tone.

"What's going on here?!" Jim yells, stepping in and placing himself between Sara and the paramedics.

No one moves.

"Someone start talking. Now!"

Sara's jaw is tight. "Misunderstanding."

"Like hell," Brass grinds out. "You're going to sit there and behave yourself while they take care of you."

"I'm fine."

"Now, Sara."

Moving her, he directs her back towards the ambulance, getting her seated back down.

Sara remains in stoic silence, barely reacting as her feet are tended to, glass being removed piece by piece.

When my paramedic finishes with my own feet, he hands me a pair of thick socks.

Putting them on, I wince at the sting in my feet.

"Thanks."

I move to stand alongside the ambulance, ignoring the pain of the cuts.

Sara looks over at me.

She gestures towards the scene.

"You should go…check on your mother."

"I'm not leaving until I make sure you're taken care of."

"I'm not a child."

"No?" I scoff. "Well you damn well act like one."

Sara narrows her eyes.

"I need to cut your shirt."

Both our eyes shift to the paramedic.

"You're bleeding," he explains, pointing towards Sara's upper arm.

Sara tightens her jaw, looking back towards me.

"Please, go check on your mom."

"You were hit," I ignore her. "You lied. That mother fucking idiot cop shot you!"

She glances around tensely, making sure we don't have an audience.

"Stop," she grinds out. "He didn't hit me."

"Cut her shirt," I command.

The paramedic now glances nervously between Sara and I, scissors held anxiously in his fingers.

"Miss Sidle?" he questions.

"No," I command. "I'm her superior, I outrank her. So when I tell you you can cut her shirt, you cut her damn shirt. Understood?"

Now avoiding my eyes, the paramedic glances down at his scissors.

"I'm sorry…" he hesitates, barely able to meet Sara's eyes.

The brunette herself looks livid.

But, I don't give a shit.

I've had it with Sara and her games.

Reaching out, the paramedic carefully cuts the sleeve of Sara's shirt. Cutting it up to the collar, he hesitates.

"It's going to be easier if I remove this…"

"We're all professionals," I state. "Do what you need to do."

Sara's jaw is so tight I'm sure she's about ready to draw her gun all over again.

Removing her black t-shirt, Sara is left sitting there in her boxers and a black bra.

The paramedic discards her shirt, assisting Sara as she pushes herself to a stand.

I move, blocking any path she could conceive of escaping through.

Looking her over, the paramedic notes a gash across her upper arm, and one across her torso as well.

"This one looks like a bullet graze," he offers, cleaning out the cut on her arm, confirming my accusation.

"That fucker…" I breathe out. "He could have killed you…"

Wrapping her arm securely, he moves down to her torso.

"This one looks like a cut from the glass."

Cleaning it as well, he asks her to turn so he can reach the part that stretches around to her back.

Sara doesn't move.

Taking her by the shoulders, I turn her roughly around for him.

Then, I immediately wish I hadn't.

The cut itself isn't extremely deep, but both the paramedic and I stop in our tracks as we take in the sight of her back.

There're two tattoos located along her skin, one at the base of her neck, and one down low near her left hip.

But, it's not the tattoos that have our attention.

"I, uh, I'm just going to finish cleaning this," the paramedic states, trying to keep his voice neutral and professional.

As he works silently, I try to stop from staring.

But, seeing the extent of the scars, the past injuries displayed across her back, I can't look away.

"I'm finished," the paramedic whispers. "It should stay open to the air, you can dress it with gauze in a couple hours or if it rubs against your clothing."

Sara nods, her expression dark.

Turning, she moves to step past me.

"Sara…"

"Don't," she warns, tone matching her dark features.

"Stop, Sara," I plead, taking gentle hold of her arm.

Pulling herself from my grip, she pushes violently away, "Don't. I mean it."

Raising my hands, I watch her with a mixture of guilt and dismay.

"I didn't know," I whisper.

She meets my eyes with her dark gaze.

"Now you do."

* * *

Sara and I haven't spoken since the scene at the ambulance, both of us carefully avoiding one another.

My feet ache and my head feels like it's banging out of my skull. The combination of stress and lack of sleep is having its effect on me, and the twinges of pain I feel from the cuts on my feet every time I take a step certainly don't help.

Brass decided it was safest to put us up at a private hotel for the remainder of the investigation, keeping two cops permanently posted outside our door, in addition to ones stationed outside the elevators and stairwells.

None of them rookies.

I headed back to the lab after giving my statements, working on things there for a while before deciding to make it an early night. We're at a bit of a standstill with the case, having put out alerts for our two suspects. But, until they're located and brought in, we have nowhere further to go.

Staring up at the ceiling from the crisp sheets of the hotel bed, I look over at the empty bed beside me. Brass decided it would be safer to keep us in the same room.

But, my brunette companion has been nowhere to be seen all evening.

Sighing, I turn back over, trying again to fall asleep.

I last about ten minutes when I hear a keycard slipping into the lock.

Reaching over, I place my hand over my gun, keeping it hidden under the pillow.

Door opening, it shuts quietly a moment later.

Then, a thud and a quiet curse pierce the room and I relax, recognizing that husky voice anywhere.

Sara shuffles around a bit more before dropping herself down onto her bed.

Complete silence follows.

Waiting several minutes, Sara's absolutely silent. No sound of her changing, no sound of her getting under the covers, no sound of her readjusting the pillows.

No sound of her moving at all.

"Sara?"

Nothing.

Taking a chance, I turn on the bedside light, casting the room in a light orange glow.

The brunette is passed out on her bed, lying with all her clothing still on atop the covers, head turned away from me.

Moving my own covers off, I swing my legs over the side of my bed, grimacing as my abused feet make contact with the carpeted floor.

Circling around Sara, I see her eyes are closed and her breathing even.

Leaning down, I jerk back up when the heavy scent of alcohol reaches my nose.

Rubbing my temples I don't know how I should be feeling about the younger woman's actions, her decision to use her night to drown herself in a bottle of what smells like whiskey.

Sighing, I decide it doesn't matter what I feel about it, it's happened and there's nothing I can do about it. She's an adult, as she pointedly reminded me herself earlier today. She can make her own decisions.

Turning to head back to my bed, I draw up short when a vibrating sound cuts through the silence.

My eyes quickly trace the source to Sara's jeans pocket.

Sara doesn't move at all, clearly blacked out from the alcohol.

Despite my regretful actions earlier at the ambulance, I debate for only a second before I waste no time approaching her and lifting her hip slightly.

Gaining access to her pocket, I pull out her phone, finger sliding across the screen to answer it before I give myself a chance to change my mind.

It may be harsh, it may be out of line.

But, it also may be my only shot.

"Hello?"

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. Who's on the other end of the line? What are they calling about? What do you _want_ to be the reason behind the phone calls? Always love hearing your guys' thoughts.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Hope everyone is well. This chapter is a bit longer than the others - decided not to split it into separate chapters, especially since there was a bit of a delay in posts. **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 11

_"If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand_

_ on my hip,_

_And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,_

_For after we start we never lie by again."_

_-Walt Whitman_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Good morning."

My words travel through the stillness, the early morning sun creating patterns across Sara's dark hair as she looks up at me.

Glancing from me, to the window, to me again, she narrows her eyes slightly.

"Morning."

Clearing her throat, she tries to sound less haggard than she clearly is.

"What time is it?"

"Quarter past seven."

Sara jerks her gaze to mine, pushing herself up and off the bed.

"What?" she questions, glancing around the room in confusion. "We need to be at work…we're late…"

"We're taking the day off."

Sara's eyes narrow even further, the younger woman clearly off kilter.

"What're you talking about?" she questions slowly, hesitantly.

"You heard me," I lean back in my chair near the small desk in our hotel room. "We're taking a break today."

"We can't," she argues, expression shocked. "We've got our first lead in days, we can't just sit on our asses now-"

"They found Charles Buford and Paul Kenner," I cut her off. "Charles was on a business trip in Europe. Paul was shacking up with his girlfriend in some small town in Kentucky. They're both being ordered back to Vegas for questioning, but won't get here until tomorrow."

Sara shakes her head.

"So we should be preparing for the interrogations, planning our approaches, our questions-"

"We both know how to interview suspects," I again cut her off. "We don't need practice, Sara. We've both been living and breathing this case. We need to go in there just like we always do on every other case and solve this nightmare."

"Catherine…"

It's clear that the brunette is uncomfortable with my plan, the obsessive woman feeling like she needs to be planning and figuring out everything down to the millisecond. But, I've found in my own experience as a CSI, that sometimes thinking too hard about something can be a detriment rather than an advantage.

"We know this case," I state sternly. "We're more than ready for the interviews."

Sara looks like she wants to argue, jaw clenched tightly.

"You're the boss," she settles on stating, tone tense.

"Yes I am," I push myself to a stand. "Now, go take a shower and let's get some breakfast."

Sara for the first time registers her appearance, glancing down at her clothing, realizing she's still wearing her same clothing from last night, right down to the shoes still on her feet.

Clearing her throat again, she avoids eye contact as she grabs her bag and heads towards the bathroom.

* * *

"I think it's hot enough already."

Sara glances up.

"Huh?"

"Your coffee," I gesture with my fork. "It's hot enough without you trying to set it ablaze with your eyes."

Sara shakes her head, pushing the said coffee slightly away.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," I answer easily. "Don't be sorry. Just tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

Sara's hazel gaze is directed out the window of the restaurant, eyes as unreadable as the brunette herself.

"Just thinking about the case, the interviews tomorrow. Whether this can all end."

"No."

Sara furrows her brows, looking at me.

"No, that's not what you were thinking."

Sara continues to look at me, her perceptive nature giving me the sense she's searching through every thought I've ever had.

"Look, Sara," I breathe out, pushing my plate away. "We can sit here and dance around the issues we're ignoring. Or," I fold my hands on the table, "we can address them like adults."

Sara's expression is dark.

"To what issues are you referring, exactly?"

I take a deep breath, knowing now is a good a time as ever.

"I answered your phone last night."

Sara's confused, mind running through different thoughts, different scenarios.

"My phone?"

"Yes," I confirm. "When you came back to the hotel room last night."

Sara's expression darkens further.

"Why?" she breathes out, instinctively leaning back away from me, putting as much distance between us as the booth allows. "You had no right…"

"You were passed out drunk," I state sternly. "I didn't know whether it had something to do with the case."

"Bullshit."

Sara's tone is harsh. Shaking her head, she starts to push away from the table.

Reaching out, I grab her wrist tightly.

"Oh no you don't."

"Catherine," Sara warns, voice low so to not draw attention, but her tone ringing loud and clear.

"You need to stop avoiding these issues, Sara…"

"You need to take your hands off me, Catherine…"

I shake my head, gazing at the younger woman with a mix of sorrow and frustration.

"Why are you always pushing me away?" I question, voice nearly a whisper. "Trying to keep yourself as far away as possible from anyone who may actually be able to help you."

"I don't need your help," she grinds out.

"No?" I question. "You want to tell me you're doing fine? That you haven't been hiding your problems behind alcohol?"

"Last night was _one _time-"

"You want to tell me that when I pulled your phone from your pocket that I didn't notice you had to make a new hole in your belt because you've lost so much weight even the smallest size no longer fits you?" I continue, not letting up.

Sara looks at me like I slapped her, eyes furious.

"Stop pushing me away, Sara," I all but beg. "You can't fool me like you've fooled the guys."

"I'm not fooling anyone about anything," Sara expresses, eyes narrowed and dark.

"No?" I shake my head. "Cause if you really believe that I think you're doing a damn fine job of fooling yourself."

Shoving away, Sara finally frees herself, tossing some money on the table before exiting the restaurant. Not missing a beat, I follow after her.

"You can't keep running, Sara," I call out, catching up to her despite her longer legs.

Reaching her, I turn her around, hands firm on her shoulders.

"Sara," I breathe out, taking in her averted gaze, her completely exhausted features. "Honey, please, stop doing this to yourself."

"What do you know?" she asks, voice matching her features in its exhaustion.

When I'm quiet, she swallows.

"The phone call…what do you know?"

"I know you should never have let me ask you to take this case," I state sadly. "I know that you're dealing with some major things right now in your personal life, and that you shouldn't have to deal with any of this on top of that."

"Sweetheart," I shake my head, trying desperately to get her to meet my eyes. "You should have said something."

"It's not a big deal," Sara states, voice so quiet I barely hear her.

"Sara, your mother is being released from her treatment facility, her sentence ending in a week." I breathe out, still trying to get the younger woman to look at me. "For the first time since you were a child, she's going to be free. And, not only that, you granted that she be released into your custody. That, honey, is a _huge_ deal."

Sara swallows tightly, "You shouldn't have known," she gets out, voice harboring so much emotion it's hard to discern what she's feeling. "It's not relevant…not your business…"

"Sara," I call softly, removing one of my hands from her shoulder to gently turn her head towards me. "I'm sorry that I violated your privacy, I really am. But I'm not sorry that I know."

Sara's eyes shift away.

"You've always worked so hard to keep me, keep everyone on the team, at a distance. Sure, you're close with the guys, but you never let any of us really _see _you. Know what's going on in your life."

I feel her unsteady breathing under my hands.

"You're part of this dysfunctional Vegas family that we built," I tell her. "Always were, always will be. So, _you _Sara Sidle, _are_ my business."

Her head lowers, her hair brushing against my hand.

"I can't…"

Sara swallows tightly.

"I can't do this, Catherine…not now…"

"What you can't do, Sara," I counter quietly. "Is keep avoiding the treatment center's phone calls, keep drinking yourself to sleep, and keep avoiding the issues threatening to destroy you."

I sigh.

"You've always been the strongest person on this team, Sara," I confess to her. "One of the strongest people I've ever met, really. But even you have your limits."

The world continues on around us as the two of us remain frozen in this parking lot, neither one moving or speaking.

Finally, I feel Sara move her head slightly, eyes tentatively reaching mine.

"I need to work this case," she states, voice driven. "Please don't take me off."

Searching my eyes, Sara's jaw is tight.

"Catherine, please…" she says. "Work is the only thing right now keeping me sane…without that…"

"There are other cases…"

"Not like this one," her eyes are dark. "Working this case, trying to nail this bastard, it gives me something to focus my energy on…keep me grounded."

I know I should say no, should tell Russell my concerns and get Sara pulled from not only this case, but all others until she's had a chance to truly slow down and deal with her issues. Force the headstrong woman to take a break and get herself together before she self-destructs.

But, it's Sara. And, despite all our tribulations in the past, there's something about Sara Sidle stepping out of her comfort zone and sincerely asking me for something that has me hesitant to deny her wish.

Sara Sidle doesn't ask anyone for anything. Especially not me.

"You promise me you'll stop running from the situation with your mom, and you promise me I won't hear you stumbling into bed drunk ever again."

Sara's eyes remain on mine.

"You have my word."

We remain in silence for a bit, both watching the other.

Then, I finally sigh and nod.

"Fine, but know I have the right to change my mind at any time."

Sara nods.

The taller woman turning to head back to the car, I reach out and take hold of her, much gentler this time. Carefully taking her still injured hand in my own, I turn her to face me.

"You know I care about you, Sara, right?" I ask, voice barely a whisper. "That I'm hard on you because I care? Please tell me somewhere deep down you know that."

She searches my expression.

I don't know what she finds there, but she eventually carefully steps out of my hold.

Without a word, she makes her way silently back to the car.

* * *

Heading back to the hotel room, Sara and I relax for a bit, both of us using the rare down time to our advantage.

I'm replying to some emails from work colleagues back in Washington when my phone's ringtone pierces through the silence.

"Willows."

Eyes furrowing, I continue typing.

"Hello?" I question, hearing only silence on the line.

Sending my email, I pull my phone from my ear to hang up when a piercing screeching noise comes from the earpiece.

"Jesus," I curse, jerking my head away.

I'm about to hang up out of instinct when I feel Sara take gentle hold of my arm.

Eyes meeting hers, she shakes her head silently.

Getting her point, I cringe as the piercing sound continues. Then, the constant shriek cuts away into rapid, piercing pulses.

The noise is so grating, so loud, that my heart finds itself hammering rapidly in rhythm to the noise.

Then, just when I think I'm going to go deaf, the phone goes silent.

Both Sara and I look at one another, then down at the phone still in my hand.

"Hello?" I tentatively call out into the silence, not sure whether I'm more terrified about the idea of someone actually answering me.

The phone remains silent.

But, as I glance down at the display, seeing the seconds ticking by, I know the call is still open.

"Hello?" I repeat. "Who is this?"

There is a click, and the call ends.

Pulling my phone down, I realize my hands are shaking.

"What the hell does this guy want from me?" I question darkly, voice as shaky as my hands. "And why doesn't he just say it!"

Sara's eyes move to mine, her expression sympathetic.

"He wants you to stop."

I do a double take at her unexpected response.

"What?"

"He wants you to stop," Sara repeats, letting out a breath.

"Sara…"

"The series of tones," Sara explains. "It's an old emergency response code that was used to indicate impeding danger. It was used to instruct those listening that the surroundings were unsafe and that they should hold their position."

"How…"

Sara shrugs, "I have a lot of weird hobbies."

I smile slightly, but the bile churning in my stomach quickly forces me to get serious again.

"You think it's in reference to the upcoming interviews? That we may be on the right track with our findings?"

Sara takes in a breath. "I don't know, but it seems odd though, too obvious. Someone worried we've caught onto them isn't likely to send out a warning to that fact to try to send us off their scent."

"Agreed."

I pinch my temples.

"But what, then?" I question. "I feel like I'm at a complete loss with this guy and whatever the hell he's trying to tell me."

"I think he's getting frustrated."

I watch Sara as she runs a hand through her hair.

"I think he's desperately trying to tell us something, but not with these messages," Sara's eyes meet mine. "He's trying to tell us something with the killings."

"What's your theory?"

All I have to do is look in her eyes to know she has one.

She hesitates, her expression, though guarded, revealing enough to let me know she isn't keen on sharing her present thoughts.

"Sara," I ask sincerely. "Please."

Swallowing, she keeps her gaze on mine.

"I think he's telling us to stop with the interviews."

"But you said-"

"I think he's telling us to stop with the interviews because we're wrong, not because we're right."

Sara's words hang in the air, neither one of us moving.

"You're suggesting…"

"This guy wants us to catch him," Sara confirms. "He's sick of working so hard to try to convey a message no one is getting."

"So what happens next?"

Sara hesitates again, this time her eyes leaving mine.

"I think," Sara breathes out. "I think he changes tactics. I think very soon he's going to push this into its final act."

"Which is?"

"I don't know."

"But…" I plead with her to finish her thoughts, heart continuing to hammer in my chest as I watch her.

"But," Sara forces out, words now nothing more than a regretful whisper. "I think, in the final act, you've been cast as the starring role."

* * *

"You ever going to trust me to be alone?"

"Nope."

"Sara…"

"No."

I roll my eyes, but deep inside I'm grateful for the brunette's diligent eye on me. She literally hasn't left my side since that phone call in the hotel room yeasterday.

I think we both know things are evolving quickly, and I have to admit I agree with her gut feeling that the end game is looming around the corner.

I do hope she's wrong, however, regarding my role in it.

Namely, I don't want to have any role in it at all.

Watching Sara as she smokes another cigarette, I pick up her pack of Marlboro Lights from the picnic table.

"You mind if I borrow one?"

Looking over, Sara breathes out smoke to the side away from us, reaching over to snatch the pack from my hands.

"Yes, I mind."

"Alright then," I raise my hands. "Apparently someone doesn't share well."

"Smoking's horrible for you."

My eyes widen. "You do realize this conversation is deemed idiotic by the fact you currently have a cigarette in your hand."

"Doesn't mean you have to be idiotic as well."

She sends me a look.

"You quit, Catherine. Don't waste all that hard work."

"You quit, too."

"But then I quit at quitting. You're better than that. You're a non-quitter quitter."

"You realize this conversation is rapidly declining in its maturity."

"I was aware."

"When was the last time we truly slept?"

Sara shrugs.

"Don't remember."

"You think that's a problem?"

"I think whether it's a problem or not is irrelevant as it's self-limiting in the absence of a resolution."

"How is it that when you're exhausted you seem to get even nerdier, and your sentences sound like an excerpt from a textbook on quantum mechanics?" I question. "Especially when mine become the opposite and revert to the level of a five year old?"

Sara shrugs again.

"I think our true colors tend to reveal themselves in our moments of exhaustion."

I snort, "Bitch…"

Sara smiles at our banter, the sight something I've missed seeing lately.

"But," I tell her, "I do agree. I think people reveal who they are when they're tired."

She takes another deep inhalation of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out into the evening air.

"I mean, to start with, your Californian accent gets thicker when you're tired…"

Sara immediately shoots me a look.

"For the millionth time, I don't have an accent."

"Right."

"I'm serious."

"I heard you. In your accent."

Sara puts out her cigarette.

"I'm going inside."

I smile at my rare victory over her.

"That means you're going to leave me here alone finally?"

"No," Sara states, pulling me to my feet. "That means you're coming inside, too."

Apparently my victories when it comes to Sara Sidle are destined to be short lived.

* * *

"That guy's an ass."

I laugh, shaking my head at Brass.

"You know, Sara said the exact same thing when we left the interrogation room."

"Sara has good instincts."

"That she does," I agree. "Though I don't think it takes much instinct to discern Mr. Kenner's personality traits."

"No," Brass agrees. "I think his request for you and Sara to undress for him to 'make his return trip to Vegas worthwhile' was the first indicator."

"And it was only downhill from there," I agree.

Though, there was something entertaining about watching Sara's reactions during it all. The stoic brunette gets so intense during interrogations, but this time even she was having a hard time not rolling her eyes.

Speaking of the brunette, I check my watch.

"Sara had to pick up something from Doc Robbins, but then I think we're headed out," I tell Brass, the only person Sara trusts to leave me with. "We have our interview with Charles tomorrow, but I'm not really hopeful it's going to go much better. I'm starting to think we're running off track here."

Brass nods. "Unfortunately, there've been so many murders that these guys only need a couple good alibies during a few of them to rule them out."

"Well, if it means I won't have to see this jackass ever again, he's one suspect I'm happy to rule out."

Brass smiles, "There's an upside to everything, I guess."

"Beautiful optimism," Sara smiles at Brass as she reenters the room. "Looks good on you, Jim."

Brass hits Sara playfully on the arm, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Alright kids," he says. "You guys go home, get some rest. We'll pick things up in the morning."

We nod, each thanking Brass and wishing him a goodnight on our way out.

* * *

"You alright?" I question, watching Sara squint through the windshield as we pass through the streets towards the hotel.

"Yeah," she answers. "Just getting a lot of glare off the wet road with all this rain."

I nod, watching the wipers run back and forth, pushing a considerable amount of rainfall with them on each swipe.

"It's really coming down out there," I offer quietly, careful not to distract her. The roads to the hotel are dark, and it's made worse by the complete lack of moonlight due to the stormy skies.

We continue on in silence, Sara carefully guiding us through the streets.

Knowing we're only a couple miles away, I start to relax and think about the warm shower waiting for me upon our return.

"You-"

My words are instantly cut off by a streak of metal coming from our left.

Then, without so much as a millisecond to scream out any sort of warning, our Tahoe is hit violently out of nowhere, metal crashing into metal as an SUV runs the red light to broadside us.

Trying to control the resulting skid, Sara pulls hard on the wheel.

But, with the slick roads, there's no hope for correcting the skid in time to keep us from sliding right to the edge of the road. Then, almost as if in a nightmare, I feel the car pitch an instant before it crashes off the edge.

Pulling up on the emergency brake, Sara somehow keeps us from rolling over as we skid down the side of the ditch sideways.

Before I can contemplate anything further, we come to a violent halt when our Tahoe crashes into something hard behind us.

Now, the vehicle rendered completely still, the sound of our heavy breathing mixes with the rain relentlessly hammering on the roof.

"Sara…"

Turning to me, the brunette's features are pale in the reflected light from our headlights.

"Are you alright?" she questions anxiously.

Taking stock of my body, I register soreness in my neck from the whiplash of the impact. My shoulder also feels like it's seen its better days from the collision of my body against the door.

"I think I'm just sore," I eventually sum up, feeling pretty confident that everything is still movable.

Sara looks me over.

"You sure?" she questions in concern. "I think you're bleeding…"

I reach up, registering the warm moisture on my head.

"From the window," I tell her. "But just a scrape as far as I can tell."

Sara watches me a moment more before turning to look around us.

"Sara," I call as she does so, noting the large amount of crimson traveling down her own face.

"It's just…scratch…"

She swallows tightly, clenching her eyes together before forcing them open again.

"Just a scratch," she repeats, working hard to get out the words.

Too hard.

"Sara…"

My own words trail off as I look her over. It's hard to see her in the darkness, but I can tell that her side of the car is definitely where the brunt of the impact occurred. Her window is completely shattered, the metal of her door caved in towards her.

"Get my…gun."

"Sara?" I question, even more concerned now at her words that not only sound slurred, but are making no sense.

"Catherine," she forces out desperately. "Get my gun."

Doing as she asks, I reach over and feel around her hip until my hand falls on her weapon. Working it around the seatbelt, I pull it loose.

Looking up, I see her gaze focused intently into the dark night.

"Sara?" I question tightly.

"There's…up top…"

I follow her gaze, my heart slamming in my chest as I notice a figure standing along the top of the ridgeline.

I don't know how to explain it, after all they could be a witness or the other driver looking down to see if we're okay.

But, like Sara, I suddenly have a very bad feeling about this.

A very bad feeling about our 'accident.'

"Take my gun…get into the back of the car…"

"Sara, no-"

"I can't get my leg out," Sara confesses quietly, hand pulling roughly on her seatbelt, which also appears to be jammed.

"No, I'm not leaving you-"

"Now, Catherine," Sara growls out, seeing the figure dropping down onto the hillside, working his way toward us.

Debating my options I curse, quickly extracting myself from my seat and forcing my way through the Tahoe until I reach the back.

Pulling the safety off Sara's gun, I crouch low, hiding myself from view.

"Hold on tight," Sara warns.

I have no time to do anything other than what she asked, grabbing onto the door handle as I feel the car shift into gear.

Her intentions become clear when suddenly the sound of gunfire hits the side of the car.

Wasting no time, Sara fires the car to life, using everything it has left to accelerate as quickly as it will go.

The combination of the rain and mud, however, make it a nearly impossible feat, the engine straining as we fight for traction on the slick hillside.

Hearing more gun shots, Sara curses.

Then, my blood runs cold as I hear the shattering of glass and Sara lets out a strangled cry.

Shifting over, I see a gloved hand reaching in and grabbing Sara through the already broken window.

Sara struggles against him, but is clearly at a disadvantage as she is still trapped in place by the car door and her seatbelt.

"Hey!" I yell, swinging around to point my gun directly in his face.

Before I can complete my threat however, the side door is ripped open and I'm grabbed swiftly from behind by a second person I never even saw coming.

"Catherine!" Sara yells, fighting desperately against her own suspect.

Feeling myself dragged from the car, the pouring rain comes crashing down on me. Trying to swing the gun around, my captor is too quick, his arm reaching out and slamming my own harshly against the Tahoe until I hear a sickening snap and the gun is forced from my hand.

"Leave her alone!" Sara screams, her own word cut short by a loud crash.

Hearing her labored moan of pain that follows, my heart sinks to my gut.

Holding me tightly, the man fighting me drags me almost effortlessly towards the hill.

Seeing the other suspect pulling Sara's cuffs from her waist and cuffing her to the steering wheel, I watch her head lift weakly.

Somehow, her eyes find mine.

Our gazes remain locked, her eyes desperately trying to say to me what her body cannot.

Feeling the man pulling me further upwards, the other suspect retreats back up the hill as well.

Sara tugs as hard as she can against the cuffs, body still trapped in the mangled vehicle.

Her efforts are clumsy, her eyes working desperately to stay on mine even as they start to roll back.

"Cath…" she gets out, her tormented voice somehow reaching me through the driving rain.

Still trying to free herself to reach me, to protect me, my last glimpses of Sara's desperate and tortured gaze are cut off as we reach the top of the hill and I'm dragged towards the waiting car.

Dragged towards a future I'm certain holds a darkness and malevolence like nothing I've ever seen.

* * *

**AN: Uh oh. Thanks for reading.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thank you so much to all those who reviewed - appreciated beyond words. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 12

_"Hell is oneself, hell is alone...There is nothing to escape from and nothing to escape to. One is always alone."_

_T. S. Eliot_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Feeling around me, all I feel is upholstery.

Leather.

Belted into the back seat, some sort of hood over my head and my hands restrained behind my back, my explorations are quite limited.

Leather upholstery.

Two captors. Both men.

That's it.

Feeling around me, my body suddenly jerks to the side the same time the car swerves and one of the men curses lightly.

"Should have been irrevocable."

"Should have, key word."

The men share no other words, but the car slows and runs over rougher road, making me think it's pulled off.

"Handle it."

Again, the car falls to silence, one door opening and closing.

I have to say, these men have been nothing but efficient this whole time. Barely speaking to one another as they both seem to know exactly what to do without need for clarification. Organized, competent, prepared.

Nothing you want as the qualities of the people holding you hostage.

My body flinches in shock as I hear two loud gunshots, one sounding very close to the back of the car.

I hear the squealing of tires, and the car jolts as we're hit from behind.

Then, another gunshot.

Now, silence.

_Sara_. I curse inwardly. _My God, what have you done?_

Hearing the rain continuously pour against the roof, I strain to hear anything else. Something, anything, to let me know what's going on outside the car.

There's nothing, no sounds for a long while.

Then, the back trunk of the SUV is opened, and I hear something dropped inside.

The door closes again, followed shortly after by the sound of the front door opening.

"Second plan."

"Understood."

The car shifts back into gear, pulling back out onto the road.

I don't know what the hell just happened, what was dumped into the back of the car.

Part of me has a strong suspicion regarding what it was, but the other part of me hopes desperately that I'm wrong.

* * *

"Walk slowly."

The hand on my arms continues to guide me along, walking about 200 feet from where we exited the car.

Feeling the rain stop falling on me and a heavy door opening, I'm escorted inside a cold building, what feels like concrete below my shoes.

Hearing another series of doors opening and closing, we keep working through a maze of turns.

No one says anything.

Another door opens, and this time the hands leave me.

"Walk forward. Stop when I say."

I hesitate only a moment.

Then, I comply cautiously, feeling out in front of me with my feet before committing to each next step.

"Stop."

I do, hearing more silence.

Then, the heavy door behind me closes.

And locks.

Standing completely still, I wait about five minutes before I convince myself that I'm alone and muster the courage to move.

"Hello?" I question to satisfy my own fears.

My own voice echoing around the cold room is my only response.

Sighing, I walk slowly and carefully until I reach a wall. Circling around the room, keeping my shoulder securely against the wall, I orient myself to the space.

It's a relatively large room, all concrete. With the hood and the restraints, it's hard to be more detailed.

Finding a corner, I place my back to it, slowly lowering myself down to the floor.

Wincing, I try to keep my hand from hitting the wall, moving my arms to try to relieve the pressure from my right wrist which I'm sure is broken.

But, considering everything, I'm damn lucky so far that that's all that seems to be seriously hurt.

I have no idea what these guys' intentions are, however, so I hesitate to count my blessings yet.

Settling myself down, I rest my forehead against my knees, closing my eyes and trying to even out my breathing.

_Come on, Willows, keep it together._

I try to concentrate on everything I know. How long the ride took, how many turns we made. The direction we traveled.

But, to be honest, the darkness and panic has made my memory questionable, and I'm questioning myself even now as I think back.

_Shit._

_Breathe slow. Run through it all again. From the top._

_Two perps. Dark blue, possibly black, SUV. _

_Plates from Nevada._

_No accents or discernible speech pattern to the suspects. Male. Middle aged, late thirties, forties, perhaps. _

_Educated._

_No detectable s-_

A noise coming from the middle of the room startles me, heart leaping to a hammering inside my chest.

In my scan of the room, I walked the perimeter. I never thoroughly checked the middle.

Hell, I never checked the middle at _all_.

"Hello?" I question again, this time hearing more shuffling in response.

Then, a moan.

_Oh my God._

"Sara?!"

My voice is panicked, my fearful suspicion regarding the item put in the trunk coming true.

But, thank God it wasn't her _dead_ body as I had honestly started to fear after hearing the shots.

"Sara!"

I keep yelling her name, not hearing much of a response besides slight movement and another moan.

"Sara, please," I all but beg. "Please answer me."

Hearing only silence in response, I curse.

"Cath?"

The weak, hoarse question brings a smile to my face the same time it brings relieved tears to my eyes.

"Sara," I breathe out. "Oh my God, are you alright? What the hell were you thinking?! You chased after us?! You should have left the Tahoe and yourself down there until help arrived! You could have killed yourself, you know that? You could be free now!"

Sara is silent.

"Sidle!"

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I lost track of your questions after the first couple…"

"Sara," I shake my head. "You…"

I try to rub my face against my knees to get the tears from my eyes.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, heart still thundering in my chest. In relief. In fear.

She should have let us go, saved herself.

But, that's not Sara.

Sara's the reckless person who somehow manages to get an SUV up a muddy ditch while handcuffed to the steering wheel, chase us down, hit our car in an attempt to stop us and also leave behind more evidence if nothing else.

"Sara?" I question again in the resulting silence.

"Yeah," she responds, clearing her throat. "Sorry, I'm good."

Her words are slurred just like they were back in the car.

"You have a concussion."

Though, I'm sure Sara's smart enough to have figured that out.

"Are you alright?" she questions me, ignoring my comment.

"Yes," I answer. "Broken wrist, but I think that's it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Sara moves slightly, hearing the sound of her movement against the cement.

"Sara," I state sternly. "I need you to be honest. How badly are you hurt?"

She clears her throat, focusing very hard on her words, her pronunciation.

"Just my apparent concussion," she states.

"Honest?"

"Honest."

I don't know whether to believe her or not, but for right now her word is the best I've got.

"Are you restrained?" I ask her. "My hands are restrained behind my back, and I have a hood or something over my eyes."

"Same."

"Alright," I breathe out. "I'm going to make my way towards you. Keep talking so I can find you."

"There once was a little ant that lived on a farm, named Charles. He liked to play in the sun, until he met-"

Sara's words are cut off by a grunt.

"Sorry," I offer.

"Sure," she responds, "Only my spleen. Not important."

I wish I could see her to smack her.

"We need our eyes."

"Agreed," the brunette offers

"Kneel down," I instruct after a moment of thought. "I'll back up to you until my hands reach you, then I'll pull off whatever the hell this is over our heads."

Sara repositions herself.

"Alright."

Moving towards her, I wait until my hands reach the same heavy cloth over my own eyes.

Pulling on it upwards, Sara shifts away at the same time, successfully removing the material.

There's a momentary pause as Sara likely tries to adjust to the lighting.

"Thanks," she offers. "Ready."

Repeating the process, Sara gently removes the hood from my own eyes.

* * *

It's a small victory, but it feels huge.

Having my sight back, it almost feels like having some of my control back.

That is, until I see Sara.

"What the fuck," I curse in anger.

"What?" she questions.

"What the fuck!" I repeat, gesturing with my head towards her.

She looks confused, and a little nervous, as she takes a hesitant step backwards.

"'It's just the concussion.' Bullshit!"

"What?"

"Sara!" I yell, really wishing I could shake her. "Shit…"

Sara looks genuinely confused.

"How hard did you hit your head?" I question in disbelief.

"I…"

She looks at me like she's trying to figure out what the hell I'm going on about.

"Hard enough to 'forget' you got shot?" I shake my head, features pale as I approach her slowly.

Glancing down at herself, Sara sees the blood along her clothing, the dark red centered around her left shoulder.

"Oh, that," she shakes her head. "It was a through and through."

I draw up short.

"Right, so that makes it fine?"

I shake my head.

"What in the hell is the matter with you?" I question sincerely. "You got _shot_! What part of that aren't you comprehending?!"

She swallows, "Please stop yelling."

"Sara!"

"Seriously," she gets out, clearing her throat. "My head…I'm going to puke if this headache gets worse…I'd really rather not do that in this room we're going to be trapped in for who knows how long…"

Her eyes lift to mine.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I really didn't think it was that big of a deal."

I see the honesty in her eyes, the genuineness to her words.

"Sara," I breathe out.

All the emotion, the kidnapping, the situation we find ourselves in. The moments where I genuinely thought she was dead.

"Catherine…" Sara whispers, seeing the tears traveling down my skin.

Moving closer, she hesitates, having no way of comforting me, her hands restrained behind her.

Solving the problem for her, I close the distance between us, hesitating only a moment before placing my head on her chest near her good shoulder.

I close my eyes, breathing in her scent, hearing the sound of her heartbeat.

"It's alright," Sara whispers, resting her head atop mine. "Everything's fine. I got you."

* * *

"Come here for a sec."

Sara pauses in her survey of the room, her hazel gaze having spent the last five minutes looking over every nook and cranny in this space.

Sara does as I ask, making her way to me.

"Turn around."

Obeying, Sara turns, watching me over her shoulder.

"I want to see these restraints better, see if we can get them off."

"Shit," I curse when I see my answer.

"What?"

"Yours are different," I explain. "They used your cuffs again, like on the steering wheel."

Sara glances behind her, for the first time turning her attention to our restraints.

"Turn," she asks me.

I do and she nods.

"Zip tie."

"That's what I thought."

Sara's eyes meet mine when I turn back around.

"You have anything sharp on you?"

Sara shakes her head, "They cleared my pockets."

"Same."

Sara looks me over.

"What?" I ask after a moment, seeing her gaze focused on my neck.

"Are you partial to that necklace?"

I look down, trying to remember what necklace I'm wearing.

Seeing the diamond hanging in the gold setting, I shake my head.

"Not as partial as I am to my life." I tell her. "Or yours."

Sara nods, "Turn?"

I do again, lowering myself so she can reach over behind her.

Fumbling around blind, she traces her hands along the chain until she comes to the clasp.

Removing the necklace, she tosses it to the floor.

Sending me an apologetic look, she steps on it, over and over again.

"Damn," she mutters, halfway through. "You don't wear the cheap stuff…"

I smile, part proud but mostly pissed that my necklace is holding up so well.

Eventually hearing a crack, Sara peers down, seeing that the gold frame has separated from the center diamond along one edge.

Kneeling, she grimaces slightly as she angles her body to try to pick it up behind her back.

Standing back up with some effort, she takes in a deep breath.

"Alright," she says. "Here goes. Step up behind me and let's see if we can pull off a miracle."

I do so, feeling her hands reaching out for mine.

Giving my hands a gentle squeeze, she moves them to the restraint.

"Let me know if I hurt you," she says.

"Okay."

"I mean it," she states seriously.

"I know," I answer. "And I will."

She gently works at the tie around my wrists, careful to especially avoid my right one as she rubs the exposed end of the diamond across the plastic over and over again.

When I feel my hands released, I am literally shocked speechless.

"Wh…"

Looking down at my now freed hands, I turn to see Sara smiling gently at me.

Not even hesitating, I step up to her, carefully encircling her in my embrace. It's awkward, Sara's hands still restrained behind her, but it's also comforting beyond words.

She again gently rests her head atop mine.

"You okay?" she asks, concern coloring her tone.

"Yes," I tell her honestly. "My wrist is sore, but tolerable."

Sara breathes out.

"I'm sorry," she whispers into my hair.

"For?" I furrow my brows.

"That I couldn't stop this."

"Sara…"

"I know," she cuts me off. "But still, I feel like I should've done something, thought of something in time…"

"You did all you could," I state. "And you risked your life to be here with me now. You could've let them leave, take me alone. But you didn't."

Sara's still tense.

"Doesn't help anything, though. Now there's just two of us stuck here."

"It helps," I confess, forehead coming to rest on her collarbone. "It's a horrible thing to say, but I feel so much better having you here with me."

I shake my head.

"It's sick, and selfish," I continue my confession. "But I can't imagine being trapped here alone without you."

Sara remains quiet, taking in my words and electing not to comment.

Pulling back, I keep my hands on her upper arms.

"Now that my hands are free, I need to take a look at you," I tell her, keeping my tone stern, not allowing her to argue.

I note just how pale she is, how ashen her features are.

She remains silent, and I think she's too tired and too nauseous to put up much of a fight.

But, her tension lets me know she isn't quite alright with this, either.

"Stay still," I caution her in a whisper. "I'll try to be quick."

Reaching out with my good hand, I start at the top, running my hand through her bloodied hair, careful to avoid the glass still sprinkled through some of the strands.

Knowing the brunette's general displeasure for human contact and lack of control, I decide to distract her by updating her on my assessments as I make them.

"You have a good size laceration to the side of your head," I state, fingers passing through her hair.

Moving downward, I run my hand along her jaw, her neck.

Moving further, my fingers reach her shoulder, and Sara jerks away out of instinct.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

Watching her expression, I carefully push the collar of her t-shirt aside, revealing the gunshot wound to her shoulder.

She's right, it's a through and through, but she's wrong about it not being a big deal. I can see the amount of blood she's already lost displayed across her skin and t-shirt, and the location near her collarbone makes me nervous.

Plus, through and through or not, it's got to hurt like hell.

Feeling around the bone, Sara again jerks away.

"I think the bullet did some damage to your collarbone as it passed through," I tell her. "It feels at least cracked, if not broken."

Sara's silent, her hazel eyes looking at me so intently that I'm finding it suddenly hard to concentrate.

"I, uh," I clear my throat. "I'm going to run my hand down your sides," I whisper, more than aware of the intimate nature of the areas we're reaching.

Sara's eyes continue to watch me, body tense but silent as I run my hand down her ribs. Reaching her hips, I glance back up into her intense gaze.

"Almost done," I tell her.

Moving down her legs, I stop when I reach a tear in her jeans along her upper left thigh.

"You have a pretty decent gash in your left leg," I state. "I assume from where you were pinned in the Tahoe."

Sara's silent, eventually nodding slowly.

Breathing out, I straighten back up.

Watching her as she watches me, I don't know why, but I find myself reaching out to run my hand along the uninjured part of her face, hand tracing its way to her soft hair.

She's so serious in this moment, her gaze so guarded and heavy. Running my thumb along her cheekbone, I all but get lost in that gaze.

Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away, shaking myself from my thoughts, from this strangely intimate moment.

"Let's work on getting you free," I gesture to her hands restrained behind her back.

She also seems to finally break from her intense gaze, glancing around.

I think we both know the cuffs are going to be a tougher feat. Without something to try to jam the locking pin, there's no way we're going to be able to get the cuffs open.

"I can maybe at least get them to my front," Sara offers, clearing her rough voice.

"Good idea."

Taking her under her good shoulder, I help her lower herself down so that she's sitting on the ground.

Lowering herself down further onto her good side, Sara struggles to get her legs up high enough to get them through the cuffs.

Clenching her teeth, she wrenches her arms down as low as they go, getting one foot through and trying to push it further, getting stuck somewhere near mid-shin.

"First time you probably wish you didn't have those long legs of yours," I offer, wincing as I see her torqueing her body to try to make this work.

"Not the first time," she grinds out.

I raise a brow.

"Damn pain in the ass trying to find proportionate pants sometimes."

I smile, hesitantly reaching out to try to help her.

"Sara," I caution, seeing the strain this is putting on her shoulder, noting the pained looks that keep crossing her features before she has a chance to censor them.

"Come on, honey," I shake my head, this time trying to hinder her actions. "It's not worth hurting yourself further, you know they're going to come back and just re-restrain us both no matter what we do."

Sara grinds out one last groan of pained frustration, making a final push at her mission.

But, she finally gives up, seeing that it's a lost cause.

"Damn it," she gets out, pushing herself up, and then all but dragging herself up to a stand.

Closing her eyes, she seems to fight against a wave of dizziness, her features paling further as she swallows tightly.

"You alright?" I hesitantly ask, taking gentle hold of her elbow.

"Yeah."

Her answer is tight, her expression fighting to appear as 'fine' as she professes.

Deciding to leave her be about it, I sigh as I look around us.

"Now what?" I ask, the nervousness returning to churn in my stomach.

"Now we wait," Sara breathes out, opening her eyes to fix them on mine. "Now we wait."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Want to give a huge thank to you those who take the time to review. I know some of you have mentioned that you look forward to my updates – well, I want you all to know that I look equally forward to your reviews. I can't say much about what I do, but I'll just say that my work tends to hold a lot of stress and at times downright tragedy. Glancing at my phone and reading your kind reviews when I get a free minute in the day offers me some brightness on the particularly dark days. I really appreciate you all.**

**Hope everyone is doing well **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 13

"_Let not him who is houseless pull down the house of another, but let him work diligently and build one for himself, thus by example assuring that his own shall be safe from violence when built." _

_Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The sound of the door creaking open has Sara and I both jolting out of our daze, both of us jumping to our feet.

We'd been waiting for what felt like hours, mostly in silence. Both of us lost in our own heads, thoughts filled with fears and theories regarding what happens next.

"Separate."

The man remains by the door, face hidden behind a black mask.

"Now."

Neither Sara nor I move.

His partner enters the room, approaching us.

Sara steps forward, placing herself in front of me, jaw tight.

Wasting no time, the second man grabs Sara, pulling her away.

Sara struggles, but she's no match for her much larger companion. Plus, her companion isn't restrained like she is.

Pulling her back, he drags her to the opposite wall.

"You, come with me."

Seeing that the first man is addressing me, I hesitate.

"Where…"

"Now."

Looking between Sara and him, I slowly move towards him, deciding we really have no choice at this point.

"Catherine," Sara cautions.

I keep walking towards him.

Seeing my intentions, Sara renews her struggles.

Moving with startling speed, the man holding her pivots on his heel and spins, sending a vicious right hook directly into Sara's face.

I scream out in shock as the brunette is leveled, dropping immediately to her knees.

"Now," my man repeats.

Nervously watching Sara struggle for breath, deep crimson trailing from her nose, I step further towards the man.

"Cath…" Sara chokes out.

Seeing her man pulling his arm back, I don't hesitate, all but running towards my man.

We're through the door before I see whether the second hit ever landed.

* * *

"Who are you?"

The man remains silent, moving me down a concrete hallway.

"What do you want with us?"

Passing numerous doors, he gestures to the last one on the right.

"Please," he offers, gesturing for me to enter.

As I do, he closes the door behind us.

Taking in the sights, I'm in a plain room with a couple of seats, the far wall a large glass mirror.

It looks like the observation room similar to the ones we have outside our interrogation rooms.

"Double mirror," the man confirms. "She can't see you."

My eyes jerk back to the mirror, for the first time noting the "she" he's referring to.

A woman is curled up in the corner, head resting on her knees. Deep blonde hair obscures her features.

"Who is she?"

"Your first question first," the man responds.

Pulling the mask from his face, he looks at me.

"I'm James Vaughn."

Recalling the name, I search my memory.

"The EMS worker…" I breathe out. "But, you're dead…"

"Clearly not."

I feel my eyes widen as the revelation sinks in.

"We were right with the DNA…it worked…"

"Yes," he smiles. "Quite shocking to me as well. But, not too concerning as I show up as deceased in your system."

"You faked your death?" I shake my head, growing more confused. "Why?"

"That relates to the other 'why' you asked."

He gestures to the mirror.

"I'm doing this to prove a point, to expose and eliminate a certain type of person."

"What?"

He looks over at me, and I'm struck at just how 'normal' he looks. Kind, even.

"I can show you better than I can explain to you."

"Why me?"

"You'll see."

Without another word, he excuses himself, leaving me locked in this new room.

Shortly after, the door to the room I'm observing opens, and I see the second man enter through the double mirror.

He enters with another girl, the girl limping and looking severely beaten.

As she enters, the other girl looks up, the door closing behind them as the man leaves them alone.

"Rachel," she breathes out. "Thank God. Are you alright?"

Rachel nods slowly, moving to sit next to her companion.

Silently, they join hands, seeking comfort from the other. I can see that both have been beaten, malnourished.

James then enters the room, and both girls look up in shock, clearly not expecting this.

"Olivia," he states. "Please come with me."

She hesitates, but eventually separates from Rachel after squeezing her hand.

She leaves, and James reenters the room shortly after.

"Rachel."

Rachel looks up.

"Where's Olivia?" she questions in fear. "Please, don't hurt her anymore…"

"I actually came here to talk about you," he states. "I've decided to let you go."

Rachel watches him, eyes widening slightly but hesitating.

"What?"

"You heard me," he states. "I'm going to let you go."

She continues to stare at him doubtfully.

"You only have to do one thing for me."

She narrows her eyes.

"You need to kill Olivia."

Rachel's eyes widen in shock.

"What? No!"

James shrugs.

"If you decline, I'll kill you and offer the same thing to her for the next person I bring in to replace you."

Rachel pauses, eyes wide in horror, mind running through her options.

"When?" she whispers.

"You have one hour."

"What?! No, I won't!"

He hands her a bottle of water.

"There's a sedative and lethal dose of strychnine in this," he explains. "All you have to do is offer it to her. Let nature do the rest."

"Oh my God," Rachel breathes out.

"Excuse me, I have something to attend to," James smiles. "Remember, it's a one time offer."

"And I'm free if I do this?"

He nods.

"Completely."

Leaving, it's a moment before he reenters my room.

At the same time, Olivia is escorted back into Rachel's room. Looking a bit more haggard then when she entered.

"You can't be serious with this…" I whisper.

"Just wait."

And so we do, waiting as the minutes tick by. Rachel sweating bullets, looking between Olivia, the water, Olivia again.

The hour is almost up when Rachel reaches behind her.

Looking over at Olivia, she closes her eyes, mouthing what almost appears to be a prayer.

Then, she opens them.

"Liv," she whispers. "You want some water?"

* * *

"It's human nature," James mutters. "People who swear they'll do anything for someone. The moment their life is the one on the line, however…it all goes out the window."

He looks over at me.

"It's amazing what people will do when their life is in jeopardy. We don't hesitate to kill our own brother to save ourself. In the darkness, when we think no one's watching, every Abel becomes a Cain."

I swallow, watching in horror as Olivia downs nearly the whole bottle.

"Why me?"

"Because you're the only person who could possibly understand why I'm doing this."

"Why _are _you doing this?"

"Two years ago," he states. "My wife and son were in a car accident. The car skidded off the road into a ravine. It caught on fire."

He shakes his head.

"My wife lived," he says tightly. "But she left our son in there to die."

He turns to me.

"He was only two."

I shake my head, "I'm sorry," I tell him. "I'm sorry you lost your son."

"I'm sorry my wife was such a selfish coward that she saved herself and let him burn to death," he counters. "Review of the accident showed she never even tried to open the back door to get him out. Who does that? What mother does that?"

"I don't know."

"No," he says. "You don't, because you're not that kind of mother. When your daughter, Lindsey, was in that car years ago, drowning, you jumped in, risking your life to save her."

I look at him, feeling pieces of this puzzle starting to click into place.

"That's why you thought I'd understand this."

He turns back towards the window.

"What now?" I whisper, watching the two girls.

"Now I kill Rachel."

"What?" I question. "But Olivia…"

"Will be fine," he states. "There's only water in that bottle. This was Rachel's test."

He turns to me, pulling a switchblade from his pocket.

"She failed."

* * *

"What happens with us?" I question when he returns, voice reduced to nothing more than a whisper after watching what I just did, wary of whether I want to know the answer.

"You witness the true nature of humankind. You witness my work until it's complete."

"And when is that?"

"When someone decides to be Abel instead of Cain."

"And Sara?"

"You'll see her again," he says. "Just not likely in the way you'd hoped."

"What…"

He gestures to the mirror.

Sure enough, the door opens, the other man entering, pulling Sara along with him.

"Oh my God," I breathe out. "You can't be serious…"

"It wasn't meant to be her, in fairness," he states. "But she forced our hand a bit when she chased us down."

He shrugs.

"But, just like the others, she'll have a choice."

My heart sinks to my stomach, because I know Sara, and I know what choice the brunette will make.

"She'll die…" I breathe out. "She'll never kill that girl."

"We all reveal ourselves in unexpected ways when put in a corner."

"Not Sara."

"We'll see then," he smiles. "Won't we?"

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you to the reviewers. You are all appreciated beyond words. **

**Hope everyone is well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 14

"_Oh, fear not in a world like this, and thou shalt know erelong, know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong." _

_Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Stop," I choke out, seeing Sara's body shaking as she's forced to her knees, blood pouring from her mouth to the floor.

"She needs to experience hell to be able to consider doing the unthinkable to get out of it."

"Stop," I beg. "She was already hurt. You _shot _her already…now this…"

"Catherine," James states. "I don't want to play this card, but Sara is going to experience what we deem fit. You cannot interrupt this process."

He stares me down.

"The more you protest, the worse I will make it for her."

"Worse than this?!" I yell, gesturing to the mirror where I can now see Sara getting kicked in the side by his partner, her body doubled over in pain.

"Much worse."

I'm rendered silent, having seen enough of James Vaughn to know he's serious.

Fucking hell.

"Can I see her at least?" I whisper.

He hesitates.

"I won't say anything about your plan," I promise him. "You can watch us the whole time. I just…she…"

He searches my expression, seeming to be trying to discern something from my gaze.

"Maybe," he states slowly.

Hearing Sara scream out as the partner wrenches her injured shoulder behind her, I place my hand against the cold glass.

_I'm here, Sara. Hold on for me. Please, God, hold on._

* * *

"Catherine!"

Sara struggles to her feet, nearly falling over as she does so.

"Shh, relax," I reach out, quickly crossing the room and taking gentle hold of her. "I'm fine…"

"What did they do to you?" Sara growls out, not trusting me.

"Nothing," I tell her. "They just keep taking me to this separate room, leaving me there and then bringing me back."

It's not far from the truth, really.

"Sara, come on," I call softly. "Let's get you sitting down."

Sara's shaking badly, her body trembling in my grip.

"I'm okay," she breathes out.

I send her a sorrowful look.

"Please don't, Sara," I beg in a whisper. "I can see you're not okay and I don't want to waste whatever time we have together arguing that point. Please…just let me…"

Sara searches my expression, gaze finally leaving mine as she coughs.

Her action, to both of our dismay, causes a new trickle of crimson to appear along her mouth.

Coughing again, her hand is nearly completely red this time when she pulls it back.

Feeling her weight shifting in my hands, I carefully move my grip around her waist.

"I got you," I whisper.

Feeling her shaking legs give out, I lower us both carefully to the ground.

"I got you, honey," I repeat.

Arranging us against a wall, I encircle my arms around her, holding her close.

Sara's quiet, her shallow breathing the only sounds she makes.

But, eventually, I feel some of the tension working its way from her body, her guard lowering enough to let me hold her.

Resting my head against hers, we stay like that, sitting with one another in silence, seeking comfort in the other's presence, knowing the moment will be taken from us at any minute.

But, for right now, we have each other.

* * *

The next time they let me in to see Sara, the situation is different.

Much different.

They didn't let me witness any of what they'd done to her prior to this, and the moment I see her, I'm glad they didn't.

Laying alone in the center of the room is Sara, her body splayed out awkwardly.

Her shirt has ridden up slightly, revealing the deep bruising along her skin, streaks of blood crossing through it.

She's on her back, her eyes half open as she stares at the ceiling, gaze unfocused.

"Sar…"

Nothing.

Hesitantly moving closer to her, I kneel at her side.

Reaching down, I gently stroke the side of her face.

Flinching away, Sara's breath catches at the pain of her movements, her body struggling to get away from me.

"Sara!" I call. "Stop! Sweetheart, it's me…"

Sara coughs violently, blood making its way from her nose and mouth, the thick crimson getting caught in her airway as she struggles to breathe.

"Shit," I curse, throwing all caution to the wind as I grab her firmly, lifting her torso up and leaning her forward so she is no longer choking on her own blood.

"Breathe slow," I coach her between coughs. "Deep breaths, honey…"

Sara struggles, but eventually slows her breathing enough to stop coughing.

"That's it, Sara," I rub her back gently, keeping my grip on her firm. "Relax, sweetheart."

"What did they do to you?" I whisper into the silence after a couple minutes.

She doesn't answer, and I'm not sure she can.

To be honest, looking over her shoulder to see her hazy gaze, I'm not sure she's even fully conscious right now.

Rearranging us, I repeat my prior actions of holding her carefully, arms encircling her in a futile attempt to comfort her. This time, however, I keep my hold lower, along her hips. The bruising along her sides, the way she's coughing up blood, I highly suspect she has broken ribs, amongst other things.

"I'm here," I whisper into her hair, tears falling from my eyes into the soft locks. "I'm here, Sara."

Feeling Sara move, her head comes back to lay back lightly on my shoulder, her eyes now clenching tightly shut.

"I'm…I'm sorry…"

Her choked, hoarse words are barely able to be heard.

"Shh," I whisper. "Stop. I'm fine, Sara," I tell her. "Just relax, honey."

She struggles to speak, but only more blood makes its way from her lips.

"Stop, Sara," I beg desperately. "It's alright, honey. Please, just let me hold you right now. You can tell me anything you want later, I promise. But right now you can't talk, okay? Please."

Sara swallows tightly, continuing to try to breathe through the thick blood in her airways.

Eventually, she reaches out, her cold and bloody hand taking my good one.

Squeezing it, she holds it tightly in her own.

* * *

"It's almost time," James informs me, both of us silent as we watch Sara being all but dragged back into the room.

I haven't been permitted to see her for the last two days, likely to give her the time to 'bond' with Olivia, who herself is also not looking too good.

"It better be," I mutter. "Otherwise Sara isn't going to have a chance to decide about her life."

James catches my meaning, watching Sara's labored breaths for himself, the room looking like a butcher shop between her blood and Olivia's.

"Why did you fake your death?"

I ask the question he never completely answered before.

James looks over at me.

"To complete my plans."

"Which were?"

"To kill my wife."

I raise my brows, rendered silent.

"It was amazing how apologetic she was when her deceased husband came back from the grave to confront her about their son." He turns back to watch Sara. "I knew if I was still 'alive' when she died it would be pretty obvious who killed her."

We watch in silence for a while, my heart breaking a little more each time I see Sara grimace in pain.

"You killed her because she chose her life over her son's. Now, you kill anyone who makes that same choice."

He remains silent, confirmation enough.

"Who is your partner?"

He's always remained wearing his mask, never interacting with me.

"An old partner of mine from my EMS squad. Just crazy enough in the head to assist me."

Seeing Sara trying to comfort a crying Olivia even as she herself can barely breathe, James straightens up.

"It's time."

* * *

This time, I'm escorted out to a different room, for the first time allowed to see where they take Sara and the other girls when they remove them from the first room.

Seeing it through another two way mirror, my blood goes from cold to boiling.

This room is similar to the other, but it has the distinct difference of having restraints built in along the walls, the floor, hanging from the ceiling.

It looks like a torture room, to be honest.

The masked man brings Sara into the room. Seeing her inability to support her own weight as he lets go of her, he quick readjusts their positions to secure her hands to the restraints hanging from the ceiling. Pulling them tight, he lifts Sara up so that she's hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, her toes barely brushing the ground.

Seeing her struggling even further to breathe in this new position, I lay my hand against the glass, tears making their way silently down my face.

James enters the room as the masked man leaves, approaching Sara.

"Hello, Sara," his voice reaches me through the speakers in the walls.

Sara remains silent.

"I know we haven't had a lot of time to be with one another," he continues. "But I wanted to give you an opportunity to free yourself."

Sara doesn't even change her expression, watching him silently through blank eyes.

"You're free to go," he explains. "All you have to do is get rid of Olivia."

Sara's eyes narrow.

"You're sick," she gets out.

James smiles slightly.

"Well, that response is definitely a first. Usually people are a bit more receptive to learning about a chance to be freed."

"Where's Catherine?" she demands, ignoring his comments, teeth clenched tight in anger, and likely pain.

James watches her.

"She's dead, Sara."

My eyes widen, my gaze darting to Sara who looks like she's trying to process his words.

"You're lying," she whispers, eyes narrowed.

"No," he shrugs. "I didn't want to do it, but she forced my hand, really. Tried to escape. Almost damn near made it, too. I shot her right before she could get to the door."

Sara swallows, arms trying to pull against her restraints.

"You're lying," she breathes out again.

"Sara, I promise you I'm not."

Sara struggles to keep her breathing steady.

Then, without warning, she jerks violently against her restraints, striking out as best she can with her legs.

She connects with James, but she's at such an awkward angle that it barely phases him.

He simply moves out of her reach.

"You bastard," she gets out, body shaking from her movement, from the pain it no doubt caused her. "If you killed her…"

"I appreciate your anger, Sara," James states. "But it's a waste of time to try to convince yourself of her death or think of ways to avenge it. You're here, alone. And the only chance for you to free yourself is through Olivia. Have her drink this, and it's over. You're free."

He places a water bottle in front of her on the ground.

"I'll let you stay here for awhile and think about what I've said." He backs up. "When you're ready to consider my offer, let me know. I'll be listening."

He backs up, giving her one last look before he exits.

When he reenters my room, I pound on the glass.

"You can't do that to her," I scream out. "You can't leave her in there thinking I'm dead! That's not true, and it's not fair."

He shrugs.

"I've seen the lengths that girl has gone to to try to save you," he says. "If she thinks you're alive, there's no way she would elect to save her life and leave without you."

He's right, but it makes my blood boil further.

"You still can't leave her in there," I gesture angrily towards the brunette. "She can't breathe hanging there like that!"

He looks over at Sara, the brunette taking in one strangled breathe after another, blood starting to resume it's familiar paths from her nose and mouth.

"That's the point, Catherine."

His whispered words bring my wide eyes to him.

"Her own life is going to be the time limit here."

"You're going to leave her in there until she strangles to death?!" I seethe out.

"Or until she chooses to live."

* * *

Sara hasn't yet 'chosen to live.'

It's been about five hours, and her breathing has become shallower and shallower with each passing hour.

There have been times when her breathing has stopped altogether before she drags in a shaking breath.

It's hell to watch, to see Sara literally dying before my eyes.

About another twenty minutes pass before Sara's head loses its struggle to remain upright, lolling down towards her chest.

"Please," I beg. "She's clearly made her decision."

He doesn't respond and another hour passes, Sara deteriorating further.

As her body goes limp, I gesture to the now lifeless brunette, hanging from the chains.

"She's passed out," I grind out. "She couldn't change her mind even if she wanted to. She's going to remain unconscious as her body gets less and less oxygen. Eventually asphyxiating herself."

He simply watches Sara.

"Please," I beg him. "At least let me go in there. She shouldn't be alone…when…"

I don't have the strength left in me to say that she shouldn't be alone when she takes her last breaths.

Sara's too good of a person for that to be her last moments – to simply stop breathing in a cold cement room all alone.

"She proved herself to not be that selfish person looking to save her life over someone else's," I continue to beg tearfully. "I know you won't let her go. But, please, at least don't let her die alone."

I've given up on convincing him to let her live, I tried that during the first five hours. He ignored every word, every tear, every scream.

He told me the only way for Sara's decision to be 'complete' is for her to die. To elect her own death over Olivia's.

I begged, screamed, pleaded with him. Told him he's punishing Sara for choosing 'correctly.' That it's not fair that she would die no matter what she chooses.

He told me once she passes, that he would stick to his word. That the killings would stop.

It should make me feel good, the lives that Sara is saving. That this all ends with her. But, forgive me, all I can think about is Sara. Sara's decision. Sara's sacrifice.

If being with her in her last moments is the best I can get from him, it's what I'm going to die myself trying to get.

Wordlessly, he leaves, appearing in the room where Sara is about a moment later.

Assessing the brunette, he investigationally hits her in a couple places. Eventually, he grabs her tightly along the site of her gunshot wound in her shoulder.

Sara doesn't move.

She's unconscious, slowly breathing her lasts breaths.

He can see that as clear as anyone.

"I'm sorry," James whispers, leaving the room.

Moving back towards me, he escorts me around to bring me to Sara's room.

Letting me go in, he looks between Sara and I.

"I'm sorry," he again whispers, closing the door quietly behind me, leaving us in private.

Though, I have no doubt he will continue to keep an eye on us from behind the mirror.

Not wasting a single more thought on him, I slowly move towards Sara.

Closing my eyes, I step up to her, looking over her lifeless form.

Wiping hastily at the tears in my eyes, I run my fingers down the side of her face.

Feeling her cold skin, I lower my head, bringing my hand to her chest.

I can feel her slow, shuddering breaths, and my silent tears turn to sobs.

"Sara," I choke out. "God, honey…"

I for the first time embrace her with all my strength, knowing that for the first time my actions can cause her no more pain.

"I'm sorry, Sar," I choke out into her chest. "I'm so sorry I got you into this mess. I'm so sorry…"

Hearing her slow heart beats, her heart gradually losing more fight with each beat, I know my time is limited.

Lifting myself onto my toes, I take her jaw in my hand.

Moving myself upward, I don't give a care about the blood, the setting, any of it.

Placing my lips against Sara's, I kiss her deeply.

It's something I know deep inside I've been wanting to do for a long time.

It's tragic in the fact that it's too late.

Even as I kiss her, I feel her heart slowing further.

I thought about trying to start CPR, but it's impossible with her hanging like this. I thought about at least trying to breathe for her, but, seeing the blood continuing to trickle down from her mouth, I know the internal damage is too extensive.

I know she's beyond the help I could offer here, that nothing I could do for her now, even if I could, would be enough to save her shattered body.

She's too injured for me to be able to save her here.

And, that fact is destroying me, ripping me apart, as I'm forced to do nothing but hold her in her last moments.

Hold her and hope that her last moments in this world are peaceful. Are as tranquil and calm as this beautiful person, this beautiful soul, deserves.

Closing my eyes, I rest my head on her chest, my tears mixing with the blood on her shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Sar..."

Hearing her heartbeats continuing to slow, my own heart is ripped apart piece by piece.

Clenching my eyes shut, I keep my screams in my throat, not wanting Sara's last moments to be anything but peaceful.

But, as I suddenly hear a silence under my ear, a silence that lets me know it's all over, the screams tear out of me.

They tear out of me and they don't stop.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: As always, thank you to those who reviewed, you guys are amazing. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 15

_"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are travelling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love..."_

_Henri Frédéric Amiel_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

I don't know when a new screaming joined mine.

My throat raw, my screaming stops long enough for me to drag in a ragged breath.

"Catherine!"

Feeling someone shaking me, I cling to Sara's body tighter, refusing to be separated from her.

"Catherine, let go!"

Hands grab me under the shoulders, pulling me roughly back.

Kicking out, I land a few good blows before something in the voice registers with me.

"Catherine!"

Feeling someone taking my face in their hands, my eyes meet with the panicked gaze of DB.

"Russell…?"

He lets out a relieved breath, eyes wide and fearful.

"We got here as soon as we could," he breathes out, voice shaky.

"Sara," I struggle between sobs. "Sara…"

He glances over, tormented eyes watching Sara's bloodied body hanging from the chains, police officers and EMS workers struggling to get her down. Someone is yelling for bolt cutters.

"Catherine," DB forces out. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I whisper, body in shock as I watch them cut the chains, Sara's body falling lifelessly into their waiting arms. "She…"

DB struggles to maintain his composure.

"She's strong…"

"She's _dead_," I growl out, anguished pain forcing through my insides. "They…she chose death…"

My words are making no sense, but DB doesn't need my words to know the situation. We can all clearly hear the words being yelled out by the paramedics.

_No pulse. Not breathing. Airway obstructed. Blood loss._

DB swallows, placing a comforting arm around me as he fights back tears.

"Come on," he says gently. "Let's get you out of here."

Neither of us move, however, eyes fixed on the brunette being strapped down to a stretcher.

We only leave after she does.

* * *

"Cath?"

Nick steps up to me, the last member of the team to arrive.

Without a word, he encircles me in a tight hug.

"God, Catherine," he breathes out. "Are you alright?"

He pulls me back so that he can assess me with his worried, tearful eyes.

"Yeah," I tell him, sending him a tired smile. "Just the arm."

"We both know better than that," he whispers.

I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. He knows better than anyone that after an ordeal like this, the physical problems are often the least of the battle.

"Sara?" he questions, and my heart sinks at the mention of her name.

"No news still," I answer, voice tight.

She's been in surgery for nearly four hours now. My own arm was operated on and casted within the first hour.

They had wanted to keep me for observation, but I refused. I wanted to wait for news about Sara out here with everyone else.

With our CSI family.

Absently, I finger the metal chain in my hand, rubbing my thumb over the smooth surface.

Sara's doctors had taken her possessions, giving them to Brass to keep for evidence.

This one item, however, was overlooked until she went in for surgery. So, they gave it directly to me instead.

It's a metal chain that I recognize having always seen Sara wearing. But, she always kept it tucked under her shirt. Now, I see that along the chain is a metal of Saint Gabriel.

I'm not sure of the significance, knowing Sara isn't particularly religious, but I simply add it to the long list of mysteries regarding Sara Sidle.

This time, however, I'm worried that the answer to those questions may never be able to be given.

I resume my pacing along with most of the other members of the team, everyone's expressions dour. They didn't need me to tell them how bad the situation is.

Most of them saw her lifeless body. And, those that didn't, saw her blood spattered along almost every surface of those rooms.

* * *

Two hours later, an exhausted doctor makes his way towards us.

DB and I step forward, somehow everyone in silent agreement that we should be the ones to get the news.

The doctor lets out a sigh.

"She's alive," he states, but his expression isn't celebratory. "Barely. We got her heart restarted and tried to patch up as much of the damage as we could, but it was extensive. The internal damage alone…"

He shakes his head.

"We got the bleeding stopped for now, most of the bones reset." He pauses. "She's stable at the moment, but we're going to have to go back in and finish repairing the remainder of the damage once her internal injuries are more stabilized."

I swallow tightly, seeing DB doing the same.

"What's her chances?" DB whispers out.

The doctor pinches his temples.

"If she makes it through the night, I'd say she's got a shot."

_If she makes it through the night._

"Can we see her?" I question, barely recognizing my own voice.

He watches me, no doubt knowing who I am and what the circumstances were that brought the brunette to his operating table.

"I seem to recall them wanting to do some monitoring for you overnight," he states. "I don't see why they can't monitor you both at the same time…"

I close my eyes in relief, more than happy to accept his bargain.

"Deal."

* * *

"Oh God," I hesitate, feeling a strong arm holding my elbow.

"Slow breaths," the voice tells me. "In and out."

I do as instructed, trying to pry my eyes from the sight before me.

They warned me. But, nothing could have prepared me properly for _this_. I know it's a miracle she's even alive, having felt her heart stop with my own hands, but this…this is…

"She's okay," the nurse states gently. "Looks intimidating, I know. But she's not in pain."

I don't argue with her, deciding to accept her platitudes, no matter how unfounded they may be.

"Can I?"

I hesitate, eyes moving from Sara's prone form to the nurse.

"Sure," she says.

Moving with me, she helps get me situated in the chair at Sara's bedside.

Silently, I reach out, brushing the dark hair from her face.

Running my fingers gently across her cheekbone, I'm forced to stop my motion when my fingers reach the breathing tube securely fastened to her mouth.

Most of her body is covered by blankets, but I see her shoulders and her upper torso.

"Her arm?" I question, noting the way her left arm is restrained against her body.

"That's some of the damage they're going to repair during the next surgery," she tells me softly. "Her collarbone was shattered, but they needed to focus on her other injuries."

"Her ribs," I state.

The nurse hesitates a moment before nodding.

"How bad?"

She pauses. "Bad."

I don't ask anymore questions, not thinking I have it in me to hear the answers.

Seeing Sara like this, it's hard enough without knowing everything going on that I can't even see.

Moving my hand down, I take her good hand in mine, holding it tightly.

The limp appendage in my own sends silent tears down my face.

I've never seen Sara so vulnerable, so young, so exposed.

She's always been strong, stoic, intense.

Feeling her empty grip, it's heartbreaking.

"I'll leave you be," the nurse whispers respectfully. "Hit the call button if you need anything."

Nodding, I sit silently by Sara's side. I don't know how much time passes before I lower my head, placing it down near her hip.

Keeping my grip on her firm, for the first time since we were taken, I close my eyes.

I close my eyes and hope this nightmare doesn't follow me into my dreams.

* * *

Sara was brought into surgery again about an hour after I woke in the morning.

I've been sitting in the empty room she was in, silently watching the hours tick by.

DB joined me awhile ago, and has finally given up his attempts at getting me to go home.

So, instead, we sit in silence, awaiting Sara's return.

Thankfully, this surgery doesn't last as long as the first, the brunette returning to the recovery room about three hours later.

She does, however, look just as terrible as the last time I saw her.

In fact, she looks worse.

* * *

Hours stretch by, I'm not sure how many, before Morgan steps in for DB and finally convinces me to head back to her place for at least a shower and a meal.

"How did you guys…?" I trail off, trying to force down the sandwich she kindly prepared for me.

My hands can't seem to stop shaking as I pull pieces of the bread apart.

She knows exactly what I'm asking.

"We found the crash site where the Tahoe was forced off the road," she states, watching me. "We followed the evidence and spotted a secondary crash site. Found a piece of the suspects' smashed out tail light there along with Sara's abandoned Tahoe."

She smiles slightly, "There was a part of the vehicle's VIN number on the tail light. We traced the VIN number to James' partner, to old properties his family owns around the city. Got lucky on our second location."

I shake my head.

"Sara saved my life by coming after us, hitting their car to leave more evidence behind."

Morgan simply watches me, not knowing enough about the events to realize the full meaning of my statement. But, she's smart enough to guess.

"She should've left me," I push away the plate with half a sandwich still on it. "She should've left me. Or she should've killed that girl."

I realize for the first time I never even asked how Olivia was doing. They must have rescued her as well.

I feel guilty that I never thought to ask.

I feel even guiltier that I don't care to ask now.

"What happened when you got there…?" I push further, trying to finally acknowledge the events.

"James is dead, shot himself when the cops stormed the place."

"Coward," I mutter. "His partner?"

She sighs.

"In custody."

"Good," I answer coldly. "He doesn't deserve an easy out. Not after…"

We both go silent, no further words needed.

"We should get back," I state.

Morgan is wise enough not to argue.

* * *

It took three days for Sara to respond to my squeezes to her hand, her own hand weakly squeezing mine in return.

It took another two days and four hours for her to open her eyes for the first time.

Her hazel gaze blinked hazily around the room before spotting me.

Then, she panicked.

Perhaps seeing me made her remember our situation. She was frantic to get to me, speak to me.

Which, doesn't work so well when you have shattered ribs and a breathing tube lodged in your throat.

They had to sedate her.

Now, about a week and half since Sara was first admitted, she's finally consistently conscious enough to know where she is and why she's here. She's aware enough to know that I'm at least physically okay. She responds to our questions by squeezing our hands.

Not quite ready to be breathing on her own, the breathing tube is still in place.

Which, Sara has been less than happy about.

In fact, she's tried on more than one occasion to pull it out herself.

Now under constant surveillance, she's on a first name basis with most the nurses. One nurse in particular, Hannah, is just enough of a hard ass to keep Sara from trying more of that recklessness that is so typical of the brunette.

Now, about ten minutes away from finally having the tube removed when the doctor finishes his rounds, Sara is anxious to get it done. Her hazel eyes keep moving around the room, glancing from me to the door, then back again.

"I know, Sar," I whisper, smiling slightly as I hold her good hand. "Soon."

She squeezes my hand in response, sending me an apologetic look.

"Don't be sorry," I tell her. "I'd be just as anxious as you are to get that thing out. You know how much I love to talk…"

Sara's eyes glint slightly in agreement.

"But, even though you're more the 'strong silent type,'" I breathe out, gripping her hand tightly, "I know you must be frustrated. And, I have to say I'm so eager to hear that voice of yours again."

It's a miracle that we're even having this 'conversation' right now. To think there was any chance that Sara would be _alive_, let alone communicating with me, it's amazing. It's hard to wrap my head around, to be honest. To feel the gut wrenching pain of thinking she was gone forever, to now reveling in the fact that she's been given back to us.

Battered, broken, and a long way from being okay, but she's back. She's alive.

Holding her hand, we wait another couple minutes before the doctor comes in.

"Alright, Sara," he smiles. "You ready for the big moment?"

Sara nods, sending Dr. Roth a pleading look.

"Okay," he states, getting down to business. "Catherine, I'm going to ask you to step back and let Hannah take your place so she can assist me."

I do as asked, giving Sara's hand a final supportive squeeze before stepping away.

Hannah moves into place, gently removing the tape and the strap holding the breathing tube in place.

"Alright, Sara," Dr. Roth says from Sara's other side. "I'm going to gently, but quickly pull this out. I want you to breathe in as deeply as you can and then hold it until I tell you to cough. I know it's going to hurt with your ribs, but do the best you can."

He waits for her nod.

"Breathe in."

Sara does, eyes flashing in pain at the strain on her ribs.

"Hold it."

Dr. Roth pulls forcefully on the tube, moving it up and out quickly.

"Cough."

Sara does, paling at the pain it sends through her battered body.

Getting the tube completely out, Hannah steps in with a plastic container as Sara starts to gag.

"Slow breaths," she instructs gently, trying to keep Sara's upper body as still as possible.

Finally, Sara's body stops heaving, her breathing slightly halted and shallow as she lays her head back against the pillow, eyes shut tightly.

Hannah nods to me.

Immediately taking Dr. Roth's place, I absently listen to his follow-up instructions as I stroke Sara's hair gently.

"You did great," I whisper to her. "It's done, honey."

Sara reaches up, opening her eyes as she uses her good hand to quickly wipe at the involuntary tears that escaped during the process, her body's natural reaction to the heaving.

Reaching over, she uses the same hand to hold mine.

Watching me for a moment, she finally smiles slightly.

"Hey."

Her voice is hoarse, barely audible, but it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.

I don't even bother trying to wipe the tears from my own eyes.

"Hey," I laugh in response.

I don't care about the nurse, about the doctor, anything.

Leaning in, I repeat my actions in that hellish room where Sara hung dying.

I promised myself if I was lucky enough to be given a second chance, I wouldn't waste it.

Placing my lips against Sara's, I kiss her deeply.

After a moment, I pull away, watching her closely.

Seeing confusion and surprise coloring her expression, I kiss her again softly one last time before leaning back.

"I, uh," I clear my throat. "I'm going to go update the team…"

Sara's concerned eyes follow me, a shaky "Okay" reaching my ears.

"See you soon," I tell her with a smile, escaping out into the hall.

Once I'm alone, I take a shaky breath.

It's one thing to kiss Sara when she's unconscious, when she's unaware of my actions and my feelings. It's another thing entirely to do it when she's awake.

_Shit, what have I done?_

* * *

The guys have been in to see Sara, each visiting with her for a couple minutes before visiting hours are over.

She smiles and tries to talk to respond to them as best she can, voice hoarse and rough, but still such a relief for everyone to hear.

Her eyes keep glancing over to mine, however, even as she's joking with the guys.

I can practically see the thoughts running through her head, the perceptive brunette trying to work her way through the puzzle that was my kissing her.

She's trying to figure out my intentions, the meaning of the kiss, all of it.

And, as her hazel gaze searches mine, I fear that she can see every answer she seeks.

Looking away, I excuse myself, leaving to let the guys visit with her.

Leaving to keep my feelings inside where they belong.

It's not fair to have put Sara in that awkward position. To ambush her the first moment I get the chance. Yes my intentions were good, but she's still in critical care, still struggling to remain stable from her surgeries, her injuries.

She's in pain, she's essentially suffering every time she takes a breath, and here I am forcing myself and my feelings on her.

She deserves better.

Pinching my temples, I head towards the front doors of the hospital, stepping outside to get some fresh air.

Sara deserves someone right now who can support her, can help her in her recovery. She doesn't need someone sending her new issues.

But, even as I say those things to myself, the one thing I cannot keep from repeating in my head, is the knowledge that she didn't kiss me back.

She didn't kiss me back.

She was in the same situation I was for at least some time during our ordeal. She was told that I was dead, that she would never have the chance to see me again.

I had assumed in my head that if Sara felt even an ounce of what I felt for her, then she would, like I did, jump at the second chance she'd been given the first moment she got.

But, her eyes didn't hold those emotions when I pulled back from kissing her.

There wasn't love, relief, joy.

There was none of that in her hazel gaze.

There was confusion, concern, and what almost looked like guilt.

_She didn't kiss me back._

Sighing, I take a deep breath of the evening air, forcing myself to let go of those thoughts and focus on what's important.

Sara's alive.

Beyond all odds, Sara's alive.

Everything else comes second.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. And no, of course I wouldn't kill Sara! I wouldn't do that to you guys :) **


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Thank you to the reviewers - you guys have brightened my days beyond words. I wanted to respond to a couple people's comments regarding the length of the story - yes, this will be a long journey like most of my others. We have a long way, and a lot of ups and downs, yet to go :)**

**As always, hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 16

_"He who knows all the answers has not yet been asked all the questions."_

_ Unknown_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The next few days are a blur of emotions, blur of activity.

Sara's body is weak and exhausted, the brunette spending a lot of time sleeping. When she's awake, she has a hard time focusing through the pain and the medications she's on to manage that pain.

I stop by every day to see her, holding her hand as she sleeps and talking with her quietly when she's awake.

She always seems to know when I'm there, her hand instinctively lacing her fingers with mine when I hold it.

Her grip, despite her broken body, is always tight and firm. It's such a simple thing, but it goes such a long way in making me feel like Sara is back and that she's eventually going to be okay. The strong, stoic woman that I've known her to be is represented in that grip, and it brings me comfort beyond words to have it replace the limp one when she was first brought in.

Rubbing my thumb along her wrist, I watch her as she sleeps. Her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, her breathing limited by the tight wrappings along her ribs. I'm careful to avoid the IVs in her hand and arm, rubbing slow circles along her skin.

"Sara Sidle…" I breathe out into the silence, shaking my head.

As if hearing my voice in her subconscious, Sara's hand holds mine tighter, her grip firm and confident.

My hand is the only one Sara ever holds like this, and the simple action gives me hope.

Hope that maybe, if there is something there between us, that I'm not the only one who feels it.

* * *

"It's ice chips."

"It's solid."

"It's ice chips."

"Sara…"

She sends me a look.

"It's ice chips."

"I heard you," I shake my head. "All forty two times."

She rolls her eyes, "Come on, really? What's an ice chip going to do to my insides?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "Which is why I'm not the doctor who put you on a clear liquids only diet."

"It's clear."

"It's not a liquid."

"Ice chips are a liquid, just liquid after a thermodynamic shift in states."

"You're not getting me to give you any."

Sara glances over at the side table with the pitcher of ice water.

"Don't even think about it," I raise my brows. "You have one working arm, use it wisely before it finds itself tied to the bedpost."

Sara raises her own brows.

"Wow, you have a temper."

"You have a stubborn ass."

Sara smiles slightly.

The brunette eyes the water one last time before letting out a resigned sigh.

"You want some water at least?" I question, trying to find a compromise and feeling a bit bad for the girl.

She's been on a clear liquids only diet since she's been here, and it has definitely lost its luster with her.

She nods in resigned agreement, holding out her hand to carefully accept the offered cup.

Guiding her hand, I keep mine close to hers as she takes a couple swallows.

"Thanks," she says.

"You should drink more," I tell her, hating to see how pale she is, how frighteningly thin she's become.

I know they're giving her nutrients and everything through her IVs, but still, it's hard to see.

She appeases me by taking a couple more swallows.

We fall into silence, my hand tapping along the edge of the cup she handed back to me.

"How are you?" Sara quietly asks.

I smile slightly. "Same as I was every day you've asked me so far."

Sara shakes her head, "I keep asking every day because I keep waiting for you to be honest."

"I'm okay," I tell her just like I have every other time.

She searches my gaze.

"Catherine…"

"Look," I state with a shrug. "I'm okay, really. I'm not the one who almost died. Or, more accurately, who _did_ die."

"Cath…"

"No," I cut in, for the first time really expanding on my answer. "I broke my wrist, that's it. You're the one with a list of broken bones that you and the doctors still aren't completely sharing with me, a whole host of lacerations and other injuries I probably don't even know about."

Sara watches me silently.

"I'm the one who got off easy."

"Stop," Sara cuts in. "There is nothing 'easy' about what you went through, Catherine. Don't belittle what happened to you like that."

I start to protest, but she shakes her head.

"No," she says seriously. "This isn't some competition where the person with the longest list of injuries in their medical chart had the 'toughest' experience or some bullshit like that. What you went through was hell, plain and simple."

She reaches out, pulling my hand into hers.

"It's okay for you to feel angry, hurt, upset, and everything else about what they did to you." Her eyes are fixed on mine. "But, the one thing it's _not_ okay for you to feel about what happened is guilty."

I look away, hating her ability to always read me, to know exactly what I'm thinking.

She squeezes my hand.

"I mean it, Catherine."

She waits until my eyes are back on hers.

"Nothing of what they did was your fault. Nothing they did to me or any of those other girls is your fault," she keeps her gaze firm. "They're the only ones to blame here."

I wipe at a tear moving silently down my cheek.

"But you…seeing you like that…Sara…"

Sara brings our joined hands to her lap.

"I know," she breathes out. "And I'm sorry you saw that," she shakes her head. "I'm fine, though, Catherine," she insists. "I'm going to get the hell out of this damn hospital, and I'm going to be just fine."

I wipe more tears from my face.

Squeezing my hand, Sara brings it to her face.

Gently kissing my hand, she sends me a small smile.

"My 'stubborn ass' won't have it any other way."

I can't help but smile in return.

"Sara…" I trail off.

Not knowing how to express everything to her that I want to, I simply settle on returning her kiss to my hand with a kiss of my own to hers.

"Thank you."

She nods quietly, once again lacing our fingers together as we sit together in comfortable silence.

* * *

In the next week, Sara grows more and more awake, her body still healing, but her mind back to her insomniac self. She tries to force herself to sleep at least eight hours a night to allow her body to heal, but during the day she's awake every minute of it.

Which means she's bored as hell.

Sara's never been good at sitting still, waiting. So, her body being so battered that she can't even cough or breathe deeply without severe pain is damn near killing her. She wants to get up, leave the hospital. Do anything but feel like a prisoner trapped in her own body.

I try to visit her often, to help occupy her racing mind and restricted actions.

We've taken to having daily matches of chess. It's something that requires very little physical movement on her part, but allows her mind to be challenged.

Though, playing chess with Sara is a lot like it was playing with Gil. The challenge is pretty one sided, and it ain't coming from me.

But, I will state that I've improved steadily over the course of the week. Our matches now last more than fifteen minutes…

"Check."

Sara's voice pulls me from my thoughts, my mind focusing on my next move.

Moving a rook over, I watch her as she contemplates the board.

Her gaze is intense, analyzing the possible moves and the possible outcomes.

It's in these moments that I'm reminded of just how brilliant Sara is. Her mind works in a way and at a speed that many people could barely fathom let alone achieve.

She moves her queen.

"Check."

And so the game continues, the pursuit of Sara's attack upon my king until its inevitable downfall.

But, this time it took her nearly forty five minutes.

"Check mate," Sara eventually whispers, eyes almost regretful as she downs my king.

"Good match," I offer. "Thought I might've had a chance there for a moment at the beginning."

She smiles, "So did I."

Smiling back, the room again falls to silence.

This time, however, the silence is a bit less comfortable.

Though Sara hasn't said anything, I know she remembers my kissing her. It was ill timed in the sense that it was early in Sara's recovery, a time when she could barely keep herself conscious, let alone be expected to reciprocate.

But, now that she's at least mentally back to being Sara, I can't help but feel like we should be addressing the issue that's been hanging unspoken between us.

I fear that, if she felt the same way, she would have said something by now, or at least asked for clarification.

But, then again, this is Sara Sidle we're talking about. The master of veiled emotions and intentions.

On my end, being here with her for this part of her recovery, it's made me realize that my feelings for her are real. That they aren't just in response to my fear of losing her.

Knowing she's here to stay, I still want her all the same.

It's killing me not to know whether she feels that way too.

The timing is terrible, for so many reasons, but my racing thoughts and emotions need answers.

I need to know where we stand, so that I can figure out where we go from here.

"Cath?" Sara's concerned voice pulls me from my thoughts.

Her eyes are worried, her hand reaching out to take mine.

"You okay?"

I try to smile at her, but tears for some reason start to fill my eyes instead.

"Catherine," she calls more firmly, eyebrows furrowed in concern at my tears. "What's wrong?"

I could put off broaching this topic now, but I know if I don't do it now then I'll regret it.

Sara's great at avoidance and internalizing her emotions, but I'm not.

I grip her hand in both of mine, my thumbs rubbing anxiously across her skin.

"I…"

I trail off, clearing my throat.

"Sara…there's something…"

Again, the words refuse to come.

Seeing her kind, quiet, supportive gaze, I lose my intentions of explaining anything to her.

Instead, I elect to show her.

Leaning over, I carefully remove the chess board from the bed, setting it aside.

Then, I watch Sara carefully as I lean towards her.

My eyes meet with hers, gazes fixed as I move closer, making my intentions clear.

Her eyes move towards my mouth, then back to my eyes again. Her breathing has shifted from shallow to practically absent.

Reaching out, I gently place my hands along the sides of her face, my gaze remaining on hers.

Leaning closer, my mouth pauses just inches from hers, the last moments of hesitation before I fully commit.

Then, I steady myself and close the distance between us.

Or, I try.

Getting within mere millimeters of her lips, Sara turns away, her head twisting against the gentle grip of my hands.

Immediately, I pull back, removing my hands from her like I was slapped.

Sara's head is still turned away from me, her breathing quickened.

Her expression holds so many emotions I cannot sort them out.

"I'm sorry…" I whisper. "I thought maybe….you felt…but…"

I fall speechless, my hands damn near trembling.

"I can't."

Sara's whispered words echo through the room, her eyes now downcast before she forces herself to turn back and face me.

"Catherine…I can't…"

She tries to steady her voice.

"I can't be that person for you…I'm sorry if I did something to make you think…"

She trails off, and I wave my hands, trying to keep my composure.

"No," I tell her, trying to force a smile. "It's fine."

She looks tormented, her expression pained.

"Catherine, it's not you, I just don't…"

"It's fine," I cut her off, squeezing her hand before pulling away. It suddenly feels too painful to touch her. "It's my fault…I shouldn't have done that."

I stand, putting space between us.

"It won't happen again."

Sara's pained eyes watch mine.

The silence is deafening.

"I'm actually going to go," I tell her. "I need to…"

I trail off, not even bothering to make up an excuse to leave. We both know damn well why I'm leaving.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I offer, breathing out deeply, trying again to force a smile to my face.

My eyes meet with hers one last time.

Her hazel gaze holds deep sadness, apology.

I walk out, shutting the door behind me.

My heart beats rapidly against my chest. A deep sinking feeling spreading throughout my body as I fight to keep my composure even as moisture pricks at my eyes.

I guess I have my answers.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: You guys are amazing, I love reading your thoughts after each chapter. I really appreciate the time you take to review. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 17

"_It is our relation to circumstances that determine their influence over us. The same wind that blows one ship into port may blow another off shore." _

_Christian Nevell Bovee_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Hey," Morgan looks up at me in surprise. "You alright? Should you be here…?"

I smile, "I'm fine Morgan, I got cleared to leave the hospital days ago."

"Right," she says, a slight blush creeping up her pale skin. "Sorry. Just, you've been there so much with Sara…"

"Yeah," the smile drops from my face and I distract myself by glancing around the evidence in the room. "Thought I'd give her a reprieve from me for a bit."

Morgan doesn't comment, clearly knowing something is up but wise enough to let me be about it.

"Is this the evidence from the scene?"

Morgan nods, looking at me with sad, watchful eyes.

"Yeah," she breathes out.

A quick glance along the evidence being displayed is enough to make my stomach turn.

There's Sara and my ripped, bloody clothing along one side. Metal chains and restraints used to nearly kill Sara along the other side.

"Catherine…"Morgan slowly comes to move between me and the evidence table. "Don't do this to yourself."

I reach out, finally breaking my gaze with the bloodied items on the table to squeeze her arm.

"It's fine," I tell her seriously. "Seeing the items in person is no different than when I see them every night in my nightmares."

Morgan's expression shifts, her eyes growing even more saddened.

"Catherine…"

"It's fine," I tell her seriously. "We got those bastards, no one is going to die at their hands ever again."

I look up.

"It ended with us."

Morgan squeezes my shoulder, taking a deep breath before backing up slightly.

"How's Sara," she asks, changing the subject to something more pleasant.

Little does she know that the 'Sara subject' is the only one less pleasant to me right now than the previous one.

"She's alright," I state quietly. "Or at least that's what she keeps saying, right?"

Morgan smiles slightly while shaking her head.

"I thought I knew stubborn people, then I moved here and met her."

I smile despite the dark emotions churning inside my stomach at the mere mention of Sara's name.

"I think she's got a long way to go in her recovery," I state honestly, knowing the brunette is in pain no matter how hard she tries to hide it when I'm around her. No matter how hard she's tried to hide the long list of injuries she's currently battling.

"But she's Sara," I finally end up whispering, a small smile playing at my lips despite myself.

The brunette is nothing if not determined, and I know she's going to come out of this okay.

Like she said, her stubborn ass wouldn't have it any other way.

Swallowing tightly, I excuse myself.

Heading off to find DB, I take a deep steadying breath.

I'm about to have the second hardest conversations I've had this past week.

* * *

Entering her hospital room, Sara is sitting up in her bed, legs over the side, free hand clutching tightly to the handrail and eyes clenched tightly shut.

"You sure you're ready to be sitting up like that?" I question with raised brows, noting her slightly hunched posture.

"I damn well better be," she responds, eyes opening and a calm expression immediately returning to mask the previously pained one. "Because it's happening."

I smile despite myself. It's damn good to see her sitting up on her own again, though it may not be the wisest of choices.

Sara's been tenacious about her recovery so far, pushing herself a bit more every day, trying to rush her body along the process as quickly as it can handle. She's adamant about getting out of the hospital and back to her life.

Though, noting her pale features and tense posture she can't hide no matter how hard she likely wants to, I think the brunette is also being forced to acknowledge that even her body has its limits.

I commend her dedication, but I hate to think of her being in pain.

"Well," I tell her, trying to push my emotions aside. "I brought you something to help you celebrate your victory over the challenge of sitting up."

I extend out the coffee in my hand.

This is the first time I've seen Sara since the 'attempted kiss' a couple days ago. I checked in on her by speaking with Hannah over the phone multiple times a day, making sure she was okay.

I learned yesterday that Sara was doing the same thing for me via Brass.

I wish sometimes that Sara was a jerk, that way her rejection of me would hurt less. If she was a jerk, I could easily forget about her and put this all behind me.

But, the brunette has been nothing but kind to me, caring and concerned about me as I work on my own journey to recovery. Her quiet, supportive presence has meant the world to me throughout this hellish experience, and the idea of being without the caring brunette is terrifying.

But, it's now also reality.

I care for Sara deeply, but she made her decision clear. And, I need to respect that and let it go. Let her go.

But, even being in the same room as her right now feels like torture, my hands wanting to reach out and touch her, hold her.

It's hell, and it's unbearable.

I thought I was stronger than this, but after the latest events we went through, I guess I'm a lot less tolerant of emotional torture than I used to be.

"Seriously?" Sara asks quietly in disbelief, pulling me from my thoughts. "Is it…"

"Real coffee?" I nod. "You bet."

"Oh my God…" she mumbles, taking the offered cup. "Thank you."

You'd think it was gold I was giving her. But knowing Sara's coffee addiction and the fact that she hasn't been able to drink anything but clear liquids since she's been in the hospital, to the brunette it's better than gold.

She takes a tentative sip, closing her eyes in pleasure.

"Catherine, you didn't have to do this," she says. "Thank you…"

"I cleared it with Hannah," I tell her. "But Dr. Roth knows nothing about it, so I suggest you try to keep it that way."

She nods, eyes closing in a rare expression of peace as she takes another sip.

"Look, Sara," I broach, moving around to place myself on the edge of the seat next to her bed. "There's something I need to talk with you about."

She opens her eyes, looking at me with concern as she gives me her full attention.

"Is this about the other day…" she asks in almost a whisper. "Because I-"

"No, no," I shake my head, cutting her off before she goes further, before she can utter more apologies, more words to rip my heart apart even further. "Don't worry about that. I need to talk with you about something else."

She goes quiet, obeying my request, but concern still colors her piercing gaze.

"I need to go back to Washington."

The words hang between us, Sara's expression barely changing as she tries to take in the news I just dropped on her.

"Okay…" she starts hesitantly. "When?"

Swallowing, I shake my head apologetically.

"Oh," she gets out.

The brunette's expression finally shifting, it's now much more guarded, and I have a hard time figuring out what she's feeling.

But, judging from the glints of emotion I catch in her eyes, I can pretty much guess.

"Sara," I breathe out. "I'm sorry. It's not by choice."

"No," she shakes her head, sending me a polite nod. "Of course, you have a job to go back to."

"It's just, they know I've been released from the hospital and cleared to fly…so they know there's no reason for me to still be in Vegas."

Sara swallows tightly.

"No reason…" she whispers, eyes fixed on mine before she looks away.

"Sara…"

"No, Catherine," she cuts me off. "The case is over. You have a job, a life to get back to. I understand."

The brunette is doing a damn masterful job of censoring her emotions right now. It's making me feel even more tense, having no idea what she's thinking. Just like how she's dealt with all her injuries, she reacts to this stoically, not revealing what she's really feeling.

"I'd stay longer if I could," I tell her. "I hate just up and leaving-"

"Stop."

It's Sara's words this time cutting off my apologetic rant before it can even start.

She brings her hazel eyes back up to mine. "It's fine, Catherine. Really."

"Are you going to be al-"

"I'll be fine," she again cuts me off.

"I want to hear updates," I tell her sternly. "I want to hear about how you're doing and how your recovery is coming."

"Okay."

"Every step of the way, Sara."

"Okay."

Breathing out, I hesitate only a moment before I reach forward, running my hand through Sara's dark hair.

I close my eyes against the emotions running through me.

When I open them again, I see Sara's own eyes are lowered, her features haunted.

Pulling back, I squeeze her good hand one last time and step away.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"It's fine," she responds quietly. "Take care of yourself, Catherine."

Backing out the door, I try to keep the tears from escaping as I gently close the door behind me.

Breathing in deeply to steady myself, I glance through her window in time to see her push the coffee I brought her as far away from her as she can reach.

If my conscience wasn't already screaming the same thing at me, that one simple action would have let me know how very _not _fine this is.

* * *

Plane landing, I silently grab my luggage. Walking the long way down the causeway, I feel like I'm in a daze.

All I keep seeing, all I keep thinking about, is Sara in that hospital room.

The brunette sitting there in shock at what I told her, pretending like everything was fine. But, I keep reminding myself that she told me there wasn't, and wouldn't be, anything between us.

So, I can't be blamed for heading back to DC.

Right?

I know she's in good hands with the guys and the team, they'll be sure she's taken care of and doesn't try anything ridiculous during her recovery.

But, I can't help feeling like I abandoned her. Whether we ever became anything more or not, I abandoned my friend.

But, the FBI needed me back, and I didn't have a reason to refuse their orders and stay.

Sara would have been that reason, but she clearly opted out.

So, back to DC I went.

I once again closed a Vegas chapter in my life, electing to stop putting off the inevitable and getting back to my real life now in DC.

Stepping through the gate, I make my way to the main lobby of the airport, heading towards the main doors.

"Catherine!"

Turning in surprise, I see the owner of the voice pushing off from his place on the wall.

"Ben?" I question in surprise.

"Hey," he smiles, nervous as he anxiously looks me up and down. "Are you alright? I've been so worried…"

"I'm fine," I tell him with a thankful smile, breathing out a tired breath. "Just exhausted. You didn't have to pick me up, I was going to call a cab…"

He shakes his head like I'm crazy.

"Of course I'd pick you up," he states. "They told me you were coming in. There's no other place I'd be."

He enfolds me in his arms, gently holding me to him.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispers.

Pulling back, he takes my hand in his.

"Come on, babe," he says gently. "Let's get you home."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Thank you so much to the reviewers, you guys help keep the story going. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 18

"_Some of your grief you have cured, and lived to survive; but what torments of pain have you endured that haven't as yet arrived." _

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Three months.

It's been almost three months since I left Vegas, since I saw Sara last.

Despite her promises to me, she never contacted me once after I left.

Not that I was surprised.

There hasn't been a day that's gone by that I haven't wondered about her, worried about her. Worried about how she's doing, how her recovery is going.

About a week after I left, I got a middle of the night phone call from DB.

He was calling to tell me that Sara had had some 'complications,' that they'd brought her back into surgery.

I'd never been so scared as I was that night, waiting for his phone call to tell me she'd made it through the surgery okay.

I'm still not entirely sure what the complications were, or what the surgery was for.

DB, and all the team really, have been fiercely guarded about information regarding the brunette.

And, I know Sara well enough to know that's by her request. After I left like I did, it's clear the team is more than happy to respect her wishes versus mine.

I shouldn't be surprised. Leaving like I did was a shitty thing to do. It was unfair, harsh, and cold.

I left Sara to recover on her own while I up and left like she didn't just live out one of the worst experiences in her life because of me.

I chose a job over my friend.

I chose the easy way out of my own hurt emotions, choosing my comfort over the right thing to do.

"Babe?" I hear whispered next to me in the darkness. "You alright?"

"Yeah," I tell Ben, sending him a smile I know he can't see. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

I chose my comfort, my job, all of it, over Sara and the dark, tormented feelings she caused me every time I saw her.

I've chosen Ben and the life he openly offered me over the brunette and the life she denied me.

* * *

"Seriously?" I state, eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me…"

"No," Ben answers, putting down the morning paper as he watches me read over the letter in my hand. The letter that innocently came with the rest of the mail.

The letter that nearly stopped my heart in my chest.

"In the end, after all the court sessions, he didn't take the plea…" Ben mutters.

"So now there's going to be a trial."

"Yes," he responds, eying me in apology. "But I guess at least it's a slam dunk case and gives you the chance to head back to Vegas and check in on everyone since you had to leave so abruptly."

"Right…" I state distractedly, eyes still roaming over the words on the paper in front of me.

_Summons. Witness. Victim. Testify. Vegas._

I try to appear neutral, calm. To not let him see the true fear in my eyes.

The fear of seeing Sara again. Of facing the caring and kind brunette that I kissed, confessed my feelings to, then ultimately up and left in a fucking hospital bed so I could run back to the boyfriend she didn't even know I had.

No, that part I'm going to have to keep to myself.

* * *

"Copy of the disposition."

"Thanks," I mutter, taking the large packet of paper slid across the table to me.

"Sara should be arriving shortly, and she's already been briefed on everything."

"Good."

Eying me, the prosecutor meets my gaze.

"Let me know if you have any questions."

We spend the next minutes in silence, me reading over the large document in front of me that spells out all the charges in the case.

I still can't believe this bastard was arrogant enough to plead not guilty.

I still can't believe I'm back here in Vegas.

Straight off the flight, I headed directly to the courthouse.

I also took more than one detour to a couple different bathrooms to splash cold water on my face in a futile attempt to settle my nerves. It's going to take a hell lot more than some dribbles of water to steady the emotions rolling through me.

We both look up when the door to the briefing room opens.

My breath catches somewhere in my throat as I see who it is walking through.

God, it feels like so long since I saw her last.

Watching her walk in, my first thought is how good it is to see her up and about. The last memories I have of her, bloodied and broken, still haunt my sleepless nights.

Sara is the strongest person I know, and I had no doubt she would get herself out of that hospital, but it's so good to see her almost appearing like the Sara before all this happened.

But, for as much as she's back to herself, there are some definite changes.

Her hair is a bit longer, for example, falling just below her shoulders. I can't help but to think how good it looks on her.

But, the other changes are a bit less positive.

She's still extremely thin.

I know recovery must have been a long, hard road. But I'd hoped she may have been able to use the recovery time to put some weight back on. If anything, it seems as though she's almost lost some pounds since I saw her last.

Which, is a very concerning prospect.

I also note some subtle scars on her that weren't there before. There's one along the side of her temple that I remember being cut from the glass window of the Tahoe.

There's another running through her left brow, and a third along the corner of her bottom lip.

She's still stunning, the scars doing nothing to detract from her beauty. Most people probably wouldn't notice them even, but when you know someone for as many years as I've known Sara, you notice.

"Sara," the prosecutor greets with a warm smile, interrupting my thoughts.

Reaching out, she places her hand gently on Sara's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"You ready for this?"

It's clear the two are relatively close, probably having worked on this case together for a while before I got summoned to join.

"Yeah," Sara sends her a small smile. "More than ready."

Her voice is slightly huskier than I remember, and I wonder if having had to have more breathing tubes placed down her throat from her additional surgeries is to blame.

Emotions pulling at me, I try to remain calm.

Finally, I feel Sara's gaze on mine.

"Hi," she offers, expression neutral, carefully controlled.

"Hey."

"How was your flight?"

"Fine, thanks."

This is pathetic. We both know it, but don't dream of discussing anything else. I half expect one of us to comment on the weather.

"Alright," the prosecutor cuts in to our awkward exchange. "Both of your statements have previously been taken after the incident. They're in there for your reference if you need them, otherwise it's best to go from memory."

She sobers. "I'm sure neither one of you needs help in remembering what that man did."

The silence is our agreement.

"I'm going to give you both some time to review the materials. I have a couple phone calls to make but I'll be around if you need me."

We nod, watching as she leaves the room.

Poking her head back in, she directs her gaze to Sara.

"Remember what I said about being on the stand…" she states sternly. "If you need a break, or need to stand up, you let the judge know."

"Sure," Sara answers quietly.

Fixing the brunette with a last stern look, she exits.

* * *

"What was that about?" I ask, watching Sara as she leafs through the document in her hands.

"Nothing."

It's clear that it wasn't nothing, but it's even clearer that Sara doesn't want to talk about it.

"So, how've you been?"

Sara pauses her reading, the only reaction to my words.

It's lame, I know, but it's the best I've got right now.

"Good, yourself?"

"Good."

Sara nods, giving me a quick look before returning her attention to the document.

"Although," I start in hesitantly, deciding to try for some honesty. "It's been hard to transition back into work. You know, after…"

Sara finally pauses for real this time, hesitating before meeting my gaze.

"I know."

Her words are quiet, almost a whisper.

"You back full time?"

Sara takes in my question, her expression shifting slightly.

"Mostly."

I don't know what 'mostly' means, but again I hesitate to push a topic that Sara's clearly uncomfortable with.

After I up and left the way I did…I don't feel like I have a right to call the shots on anything regarding the brunette.

I sigh, realizing that my bridges with Sara have been burnt.

I knew it before I came here, but now it's been confirmed.

All I have to do is look in her eyes to know it's confirmed.

Before my thoughts can go any further, the awkward silence of the room is interrupted by the prosecutor.

"Hey guys," she pokes her head back around the door frame. "Just got a call from the judge. You're up first thing tomorrow morning."

Taking matching breaths, Sara and I both nod.

"You guys go home," the prosecutor suggests. "Get some rest."

"Thanks, Amy," Sara states, and I realize up to then I never thought to ask her her name.

"See you in the morning," Amy responds with a nod. "Six sharp."

"She doesn't mess around," I comment dryly as Sara and I gather our things in the room that suddenly feels too small.

"She doesn't," Sara confirms. "Which in her line of work is likely a requirement."

"Touche."

Heading out towards the front entrance, Sara and I descend the courthouse steps.

Getting to our cars, Sara sends me a nod.

"See you tomorrow."

With that, she gets inside, not sparing me another look as she backs out of her parking spot and takes off down the road.

"See you tomorrow," I mutter into the empty air.

Getting into my car, I rest my head on the steering wheel.

I'm back.

In Vegas.

With Sara.

Heaven have mercy on us all.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thank you to those who reviewed, you guys are incredible. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 19

_"This is a court of law young man, not a court of justice." _

_Oliver Wendell Holmes_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"You ready?" Amy asks, sending me a supportive look.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

She nods, watching me pace back and forth in front of her. "Just tell the truth up there and you'll be fine."

"Well, I was planning to fabricate my account of events…but gosh…," a smoky voice calls.

"Hello Sara," Amy greets the approaching brunette with a roll of her eyes. "Can always count on you for sarcasm. Even at six in the morning."

Sara sends her a wide grin.

For my part, I'm lost in the sight of Sara's smile. It's been so long since I've seen the brunette smile like that…

"Alright ladies," Amy checks her watch. "It's time."

Sara gives me a quick look, a polite nod of greeting before following me into the courtroom.

We sit together, not so much by choice, but out of convenience.

While I'm feeling suddenly nervous regarding taking the stand, Sara for her part seems as calm and collected as ever.

When the side doors open, however, and the man we now know as Nathanial Redder enters the courtroom, I can feel her stiffen beside me.

I reach out and place my hand on her thigh before I realize what I'm doing.

Jerking in her seat, Sara's gaze shoots to mine.

Immediately, I remove my hand.

Opening statements proceed, both sides trying to sell the jury on the authenticity of their account, their version of events.

Inwardly I wonder how the hell a case like this can be up to a random panel of individuals to decide. This man is pure evil, and I feel like anyone looking at him should be able to see that.

To see through his kempt façade to the monster that's beneath.

As the moment stretch on, my nervousness transforms to confidence. I want to nail this bastard and make him regret sending this case to trial.

I don't have to wait long as I hear my name called out through the courtroom.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Sara's quiet voice reaches my ears, my body too numb to respond right away.

The concern in her voice is genuine, and, despite everything that transpired between us, I appreciate her caring.

"I think so," I tell her. "Still sort of trying to get my bearings."

Sara nods, letting out a breath.

"None of it matters," she says after a few moments. "He was trying to rile you, belittle your character. Their case is bogus, and that's their only shot at defending him."

She looks over at me. "Anyone with half a brain can see that. And, anyone with half a brain can see through it to the amazing woman that you are."

Her words surprise me. I know they shouldn't, that I always knew Sara to be a good enough person to put her own feelings aside to help others, but right in this moment it astonishes me.

She has every right to hate me, to have left me to stew alone after my testimony, but she didn't.

She reached out to help me, like she's always done, always seems to do.

"I have to say I'm shocked, though," her words cut into my thoughts. "I had no idea you used to get naked for a living. God, the scandal."

I snort, nearly choking on the coffee she was kind enough to buy me.

"I know," I shake my head in amusement. "You'd think people would get tired of bringing that up in court by now. Yes, I was a stripper. Now I'm a badass federal agent. Get over it."

Sara smiles. Then, surprising me even further, she squeezes my arm lightly.

"We all have a past, Catherine."

"I just wish my past didn't have to get spread across a national stage," I tell her honestly. "Lindsey doesn't need to hear more about her mother's coke addiction and abusive ex-husband. Her father, with all his faults, was still her father and she should be able to have his memory rest in peace."

Sara listens, squeezing my arm in support again before pulling away.

"Lindsey knows exactly who her mother and father are. She's brilliant, more than smart enough not to give something like this a second look."

I nod slowly, knowing that she's right.

"Miss Sidle?" the bailiff calls from the doorway. "You're up."

Sara nods, her calm facade faltering only briefly before she stands.

"You good?" she asks me one last time as I stand as well.

"Yes, thanks." I take a deep breath. "Good luck."

Sara nods solemnly, leading the way back inside.

* * *

"Sara Gabriel Sidle."

"Gabriel?" the defense attorney, David Lehmann questions with a smile, flashing a boyish grin at the jury.

"It was my father's name."

Sara's tone is even, holding no humor.

Lehmann drops his grin.

"How long have you been a CSI, Miss Sidle?"

"Ten years."

"And how many times have you been the target of an abduction or violent attack while on the force?"

"Objection," Amy stands. "Relevance?"

"I'm trying to establish character, your honor."

"Right, because you did that so well with Miss Willows…"

"Order," the judge bangs his gavel loudly. "Mr. Lehmann, you will proceed, but I highly suggest you quickly get to your point."

"Miss Sidle?"

"Depends on what you define as 'violent attack,'" Sara states. "But about four."

"You were abducted and left in the desert by the miniature killer. You nearly got your throat slit by the patient at that mental hospital. You were recently stalked and framed for murder by a psychopath, Ronald Basderic."

Sara watches him closely.

"I'm sorry," she shakes her head evenly after a minute. "Was there a question I missed?"

Some stifled chuckles can be heard around the courtroom.

"My question is, after your latest trauma, just _weeks _before, what exact frame of mind were you in when you were taken captive yet again?"

Sara narrows her eyes as if she's talking to a child.

"I was pissed," she says. "Just like I was the last three times."

More chuckles.

"You've been no stranger to difficult situations, have you Sara?" Lehmann questions, absolutely no humor in his own voice. "I mean, what you went through as a child..."

Sara's jaw tightens, her expression remaining tightly controlled.

"Counselor…" the judge warns.

"You'll get my point soon, I promise, your honor."

"I better."

"Tell me about November 18th, 1985."

Sara remains silent, her features stark.

"Fine," Lehmann shrugs casually. "I'll tell everyone for you. That was the day you confessed to murder."

Gasps of surprise can be heard around the courtroom, and I feel my own expression registering the shock running through my body.

"Wasn't it, Miss Sidle?"

Sara hesitates only a moment.

"Yes."

I, and clearly everyone in the courtroom, are dumfounded.

"That's the day you confessed to killing your dad."

Lehmann pauses, rubbing his chin. "No, wait, my mistake. Your _foster_ dad," he smiles. "Your mother had already killed your real father."

Amy stands so quickly that her chair nearly topples to the floor.

"Objection," she growls out. "Miss Sidle is not on trial here, her family business has no place being discussed!"

"You have one more minute, counselor, then I hold you in contempt for harassing the witness," the judge states darkly. "And you better pray this has a point."

Lehmann is unphased.

"Your foster dad got drunk one night, came into the house with his hunting rifle, fired off a couple rounds for kicks. You grabbed the gun he kept in the closet, killing him before he could accidentally kill one of you."

Sara remains silent.

"That's what you told the officers on scene," Lehmann says. "The man had a long list of domestic violence complaints, assault charges, DUIs. You confessed in court, plead guilty. Charges were never placed, however, due to your age and the clear argument of self-defense. No one ever questioned your story."

Sara's expression darkens.

"No one questioned it, Miss Sidle, until nine years later when your foster brother confessed to the very same crime."

The courtroom is so silent I can hear the sound of my own breathing.

"Want to guess what the statute of limitations is for murder in the state of California?"

Lehmann pierces the jury with his gaze before returning it to Sara.

"Nine years."

I feel my heart sinking somewhere to my knees.

Amy pales, her hands pausing before frantically riffling through her papers.

"Out of curiosity, the investigators from the original case took a look at the old evidence that was never fully investigated due to your confession. They ran the prints on the gun."

Lehmann steps closer to the brunette.

"They only found yours," he says. "Which is odd, seeing as it was your foster dad's gun."

His voice is low, dark.

"They concluded that you'd wiped it down before placing your prints on the gun to cover up the crime for your foster brother. Why else would you wipe down a gun but leave your own prints?"

Sara's jaw is clenched, her eyes dark.

"How old were you then, Miss Sidle?"

It takes Sara a moment to answer, her narrowed gaze burning holes through Lehmann.

"Eight."

"You were eight, and you managed to cover up a murder, lie in court _under oath_, and convince a jury you committed a crime you never performed."

He pauses.

"I can only imagine, Miss Sidle, what you're capable of now at the age of _thirty _eight."

* * *

"Amy, I'm so sorry," Sara mutters, hand angrily running through her hair as she paces outside the courthouse.

"You didn't know," is Amy's tightly controlled response.

"Those records were sealed," Sara shakes her head. "Expunged."

"Sealed records can be revoked in the event the subject is named in a murder trial."

"Yeah," Sara nods. "As the suspect."

Amy shakes her head.

"That's how the law was intended," she agrees. "But not how it's often interpreted by sleazy defense attorneys who know the law was too ambiguously written for us to counter it."

"Shit," Sara groans, pausing to kick at the cement before resuming her pacing.

"What are our chances?" I ask quietly.

"Well," Amy breathes out. "We still have some of the trace evidence, which is shaky at best as he wore gloves and a mask the entire time. We have the fact that he was apprehended at the scene, though his team has argued he was only there because he was checking up on his property, and was unaware of the events taking place there."

She shrugs. "The best evidence we had was two criminalists who served as victims and eye witnesses placing him as the perpetrator."

"Two witnesses whose credibility has now been successfully shot to hell," I offer dejectedly.

"We just have to hope the jury believes you enough for a conviction."

We all fall to silence, none of us really having anything left to say.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well. **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 20

"_It is wise to disclose what cannot be concealed." _

_Friedrich Schiller_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The jury has been in deliberation for two days.

What should have been an open and shut case is now being debated.

For days.

This nightmare is continuing, and I cannot even fathom what would happen if this guy gets off.

Not able to sit around and stew anymore, I decided to head into the lab. Perhaps visiting with people there can take my mind off the trial.

"Hey," I greet, waving to DB as I enter the lab.

"Hey," he responds, sending me a surprised smile. "What brings you by?"

"Oh nothing," I shrug. "Just wanted to drop by and say hi to you guys."

We chat for a bit, catching up with him and a couple other people who catch sight of me. Hearing DB's pager go off, he sends me an apologetic look.

"Duty calls," I smile, patting him on the shoulder.

He nods with a groan, "Always."

He smiles and waves his goodbye.

Glancing around, I distract myself some more chatting with various members of the lab. However, people are busy, trying to get their work done before the end of shift.

Leaving them to work in peace, I simply roam the halls for a bit, walking down memory lane.

Walking past labs where a myriad of my cases played themselves out. Happy endings, tragic endings, justice, heartbreak. They all played out in these rooms.

Sighing, I decide to head towards the back to enjoy a walk through the courtyard.

Closing the heavy metal door behind me, I step out onto the grass, drawing up short when I see I have company.

And, not only do I have company, the company is Sara Sidle.

* * *

"Hey," Sara offers in surprise, glancing up at my rather loud entrance.

"Hey," I respond back, watching her put out her cigarette, breathing her last inhalation of smoke into the evening air. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here…"

I feel so hesitant around Sara. We haven't seen one another since the trial.

It's like I want to talk to her, but I don't know how. I don't know how to say the things running through my head when I see her, to express my feelings and the emotions the younger woman brings up inside me.

"You alright?" Sara asks. "Did something happen…"

"No, nothing like that," I send her a reassuring smile. "Just got sick of sitting alone at home."

"Your mom isn't there?" Sara asks, raising a brow.

I smile slightly at the memories of Sara and my mother's interactions.

I'm sure the brunette's missed her dearly.

"Nope, she's started this new book club thing. God only know where that woman goes off to."

Sara smiles slightly.

"Look, Catherine," she gets serious. "I didn't mean to be rude before, when we saw each other at the courthouse."

I furrow my brows.

"Sara…"

She shakes her head. "We nearly lost our lives in that wretched place," she says quietly. "I shouldn't have been so cold to you when you came back."

She looks out towards the horizon.

"I didn't even ask how you were doing," she says, turning back to send a purposeful look towards my arm.

"Stop," I cut her off gently. "I'm fine, Sara."

Hesitantly, I move closer to her.

"May I?" I question, gesturing to the place along the wooden picnic table next to her.

"Sure," she moves over, giving me room.

"Sara," I breathe out. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who needs to be apologizing to you."

Sara looks away, gaze out into the evening sky.

"I shouldn't have left like I did," I confess. "It was selfish and wrong."

Sara shakes her head. "You had a job to get back to, Catherine. Like you said, there was no reason to stay."

"There was a reason," I counter tightly. "And her name was Sara Sidle. My friend, who was lying in a hospital bed, barely even able to sit up."

"I wasn't your responsibility, Catherine," Sara says. "You had no obligation to stick around until I got better. You had a life to get back to."

"Sara…"

"No," she says. "I mean it."

I breathe out tightly.

"I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one."

Sara smiles slightly before letting out her own breath.

"Deal."

Sitting together in silence, we watch the night slowly creep in.

"I, uh," I clear my throat into the silence. "I have something of yours I've been meaning to give back."

Rubbing my fingers over the item in my pocket, I hesitantly pull it out. I don't know why, but I'm reluctant to let it go. I've carried it with me every day since I left Vegas.

Letting it go now feels almost like letting go of a piece of Sara.

Probably the only piece of Sara I've ever possessed.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I open my hand, watching Sara's gaze transform from serious to confused to shocked.

"How did you…"

"They gave it to me when they took you into surgery," I explain quietly. "They'd missed it when they removed all of your other possessions."

Sara lifts her eyes to mine briefly before lowering them back down to the item in my hand.

"The trial reminded me," I tell her.

Though, to be honest, I needed no reminder.

"Thanks," she whispers, reaching out to take the silver chain in my hand, the metal of St. Gabriel.

Holding it in her palm, she watches it, expression deep in thought.

"It was your father's."

Sara doesn't answer, her silence confirmation enough.

Clearing her throat, she tucks the metal down deep into her jeans pocket.

"Thanks," she whispers.

"You're not going to put it back on?" I question curiously. "I've seen you wear that every day since the first day I met you."

Sara's body language is tense, uncomfortable.

"No."

She doesn't expand on her response.

Her tone, her actions, her expression, it worries me for some reason.

"Are you okay?" I ask her gently.

"Yeah," she says, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm good."

"I mean…" I trail off, my words catching in my throat. "Not just about this. I mean also with your recovery."

Sara looks over at me almost in surprise at my words, her dark eyes searching mine before turning back out to the night.

"I'm fine," she says. "Back to fighting form."

I don't have the heart to tell her how far she looks from fighting form.

She looks pale, exhausted.

"Yeah?" I question, trying to get her to open up to me

"Yeah."

Sara's tone is tense.

"Fully recovered?" I ask directly one last time, putting everything out there. "No lingering physical problems or anything?"

Sara shakes her head. "No, everything's fine, Catherine. Back to normal."

Sara's brilliant at masking her thoughts, her emotions. Even now, I'm debating whether to believe her. She's always so steady, stoic. It makes you believe what she's telling you.

The brunette clears her throat, straightening up before pushing to a stand.

"I uh, I have to get back to work," she says, voice quiet. "Do you want me to let one of the guys know you're here?" she asks kindly. "So you don't have to hang around alone?"

"No, no," I wave her off with a small smile. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. I think I need some alone time right now."

"You sure?" she questions, eyes concerned.

I nod, "Positive. Thanks, Sara."

She breathes in, steadying herself before moving to the door.

"You know where to find me if you need something."

Saying nothing else, Sara disappears inside.

* * *

After about an hour, I decide that I should head home and get some dinner ready. Cooking, also a great distraction.

Also, I'm sure my mother will have more than a few choice words for me if I haven't fixed a 'proper' meal for us.

Heading inside, I pass by the locker room, seeing Morgan and Sara getting ready to leave for the night.

What has me pausing in my steps, is Morgan's tense, almost fearful expression as she stares intently at the brunette.

Morgan's eyes are glued to Sara.

"Is it happening?"

The young blonde moves around the bench separating them, desperately trying to get Sara to meet her eyes.

"Sara."

Morgan grabs Sara by the arms when the brunette again fails to respond, and I step toward them apprehensively, not liking the way Morgan is being so aggressive with Sara.

"What is-"

"Get her out of here," Sara body flinches tensely as soon as she hears my voice.

I'm so shocked at her words that I draw up short.

"Sara, look at me," Morgan sternly demands, ignoring her.

"Get her out…"

The young blond kicks their bags out of the way, readjusting her grip on the thin brunette.

"Stop, Sara," she commands as Sara starts to struggle.

"She can't be here…for this…"

"There's no time!" Morgan yells at her, her voice drawing the hairs on my arms to a stand.

Morgan doesn't yell.

"I…this…," Sara tries to speak, her body tensing before her eyes start to lose focus.

"Morgan…" I call out, my own eyes wide in panic as they try to make sense of the scene before me.

"Look at me, Sara!" Morgan demands sternly. "Focus on me, sweetheart."

Sara tries to do as Morgan asks, but within a couple seconds her body is trembling and her eyes are starting to roll back.

"Morgan!" I all but yell, terrified by the scene unfolding before me.

Morgan pays me absolutely no attention, the blond grabbing Sara tightly when her legs suddenly give out.

"I got you," Morgan calls softly, lowering them both down to the floor.

Holding Sara under the arms, Morgan moves her so that Sara's head is on her stomach, her arms hooked under Sara's shoulders to hold her in place.

"What…"

I trail off, eyes wide, my panic skyrocketing as Sara starts to convulse.

"Morgan!" I yell as I see clearly what's happening.

Morgan is still ignoring me, all her attention on keeping Sara's head from hitting the hard floor. Body thrashing violently, the brunette continues to convulse, legs connecting solidly with the wooden bench.

Morgan continues to restrain her, and for the first time I'm glad for Sara's weight loss which helps the smaller blonde keep control over her.

Glancing at the wall clock, Morgan curses under her breath.

"Come on, Sar," she pleads. "Come back…"

Sara's convulsions continue, the brunette's body seizing violently.

"Come on, Sidle," Morgan continues with another anxious glance at the clock. "Come on…"

Another tortuous thirty seconds go by before Sara's convulsions come to a stop.

"There you go, honey," Morgan lets out a relieved breath, her own voice shaking with nerves. "Relax now, I got you."

Sara groans, her arms limply pushing against Morgan's restraint.

"Relax," Morgan calls gently. "You're okay…"

Sara's weak struggles continue for a few moments before she lets out a cough, eyes opening to blink against the lights.

"Welcome back," Morgan smiles down at her.

"How long…?"

Morgan's smile falters. "About a minute and a half."

"Shit."

Trying to get purchase on the ground, Morgan sees Sara's struggle and holds her tightly.

"Hey, alright, stop," she states. "I'll help you up."

Sara doesn't look like she has much choice as her body is far too weak to hold its own right now.

"Up we go," Morgan calls as she moves to stand, pulling the shaky brunette up with her.

Sara runs a trembling hand through her hair, the other gripping the lockers to keep her upright.

"What…"

My whispered word draws Morgan's eyes to mine.

I think she'd forgotten I was in the room.

She's silent, and the tension in the room nearly triples.

"I need to go…get something from the lab…," Morgan eventually states, looking anxiously between the two of us.

"You good?" Morgan questions Sara, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"Yeah," Sara nods, standing up as straight as she can. "I'm fine."

She meets Morgan's eyes.

"Sorry."

Morgan waves her off, sending me a final look before grabbing her bag and fleeing the room.

* * *

Sara's silent, now holding the lockers with both hands.

"Sara…"

"Don't," she gets out, voice so quiet I barely hear her. "You weren't supposed to see that, alright? So just forget it."

"Are you serious?" I question her, eyes wide. "Is that some sort of joke?"

Sara's dark eyes fix on mine.

"I'm not laughing," she says.

"Neither am I, Sara."

I take a hesitant step closer, one which Sara immediately matches with a step back.

"This has nothing to do with you," the brunette states quietly but sternly. "Just leave it alone."

"How often do the seizures happen?"

Sara looks away at my question.

"When did they start?"

Nothing.

"This is why you aren't fully back in the field yet…there needs to be at least thirty days without a seizure for the condition to be deemed 'successfully medically managed'," I recite from my recollection of the CSI supervisor handbook.

Nothing.

"How many medications have they tried?"

"Catherine," Sara interrupts. "Stop."

She takes a shaky step away from the lockers, moving to cross her arms defensively over her chest.

"You aren't here about this," she gestures to the room. "You're here for the trial. So just leave the rest of this alone. It's none of your business."

"Like I told you before, Sara, whether you like it or not, you are my business."

"No," Sara shakes her head. "I'm not."

Her eyes flash with rare anger.

"I'm a person who has the right to keep parts of her life private," she says. "This is one of those parts."

"Parts of her life?" I laugh. "Try all of your life."

Sara shrugs, "Maybe. But that's also my decision."

She shakes her head, moving towards the door, grabbing her bag with a trembling hand.

"Please, Catherine," she asks, tone quiet. "Let's just get this trial over with and then you can go back to DC again. Leave this alone."

She's gone from the room before I can respond.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thank you to the reviewers, you guys keep me going. I appreciate you all. And darn, Stark, how did you know that's exactly what I had planned?! Now I'm going to have to go and create a whole other ending so everyone can still be surprised. ;)**

**Take care everyone and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 21

"_We shall see but little way if we require to understand what we see. How few things can a man measure with the tape of his understanding! How many greater things might he be seeing in the meanwhile!" _

_Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Sara's seizure, her convulsing form, it keeps me up all night.

Seeing her like that, body prone and vulnerable, it takes me back to seeing her beaten and bloody in that damn room. Holding her broken and bleeding body in my arms.

She lied to me.

She's not 'fine'; she isn't 'back to normal.'

She's still fighting a battle against her injuries, fighting to get her life back.

While mine is continuing like normal in DC, the only reminder of the events a faint surgical scar along my wrist, Sara is still having serious medical issues. Serious problems that she went out of her way to keep from me.

I'm done playing around, I'm done avoiding the issues at hand.

Sara needs to know I'm not backing out on her this time.

Not like the last time.

Whether she likes it or not, I'm sticking around this time until she's back to the Sara Sidle she was before I brought this nightmare into her life.

* * *

Ascending the porch, I take a deep breath, straightening out my blouse before I raise a hand to knock.

"Miss Willows…?"

Spinning, I place a hand over my thundering heart.

"I saw pictures of you on the news," the woman offers in explanation.

"Ms. Sidle," I breathe out in surprise, only needing to take one look at the woman to know exactly who she is. Same dark hair, similar facial features. But very different eyes. "I didn't see you there."

"Sorry to startle you," she offers with a gentle smile that reminds me of Sara.

Speaking of the brunette, as my eyes adjust to the early morning lighting filtering through the porch, I note Ms. Sidle reclining in the porch swing.

And, laying across the wooden swing with her head in her mother's lap, is Sara.

Ms. Sidle follows my gaze.

"She'd never let me hold her like this if she was awake," she smiles sadly. "Always the tough girl…."

Sara's mom breathes out, calming her emotions to focus her gaze on me.

"What brings you by, hon?"

"Oh," I clear my throat. "I came by to talk with Sara, actually."

"Ah," she sends me an apologetic look. "She just took her pain medications. Usually knocks her out for a couple hours."

So that explains the brunette's heavy slumber.

But, it doesn't explain why she's taking pain medications.

You don't take pain pills for seizures.

Dear God, please don't tell me she's also still in pain. Not all these months later…

"You want to sit with us for a bit?" Sara's mom asks kindly, her gentle voice breaking into my destructive thoughts. "You look like you could use some company."

I smile sadly at her ability, just like her daughter, to read me.

"Actually, that sounds nice if you don't mind."

Sara's mom gestures to an empty chair.

I sit, and we simply watch the sunrise for awhile, Ms. Sidle absently running her fingers through Sara's hair.

I try to adjust to the fact that this is Sara's mom. Here. Living with her.

Just like I learned was going to happen before I left.

I have no idea how the process is going, how Sara's relationship with her mother is developing. How Sara is adjusting to having her mother freed.

Yet more questions that I abandoned Sara before getting answers to.

"How is she?" I finally ask, breaking the moment.

"Sara?" Ms. Sidle questions, looking down at her daughter.

My silence confirms my answer.

"She's okay," her mother says, but her smile falters a bit as the silence stretches on. "At least, that's what she keeps telling me."

Her gaze lifts to mine.

"I don't know how anyone can be okay after…after what you poor girls went through. But," she breathes out, "that's Sara. Always telling me she's fine."

"Always telling everyone she's fine," I offer quietly, sending her mother a supportive smile, letting her know she isn't the only one Sara is less than open with about things like that.

"How is she really, Ms. Sidle?"

"Oh," Sara's mom shakes her head. "Laura, please."

"Sorry," I offer. "Laura."

Laura looks down at Sara, hand absently running along Sara's cheek to her jawline.

"She has problems," Laura says slowly, hesitantly. "With her ribs, mostly. They cause her pain if she's in one position for too long. She tries to hide it, but she's always making excuses to get up and walk around, then other excuses to sit after she's been on her feet awhile."

I nod, remembering the prosecutor's instructions to Sara regarding if she needed to take a break while being on the stand.

"That's been one of the biggest things I've noticed," Laura states softly. "That and the seizures."

I nod, flashing back to the terrifying moments in the lab.

"She used to get them as a kid, you know?" Laura states, drawing me from my thoughts.

"Really?" I question in surprise. "She never mentioned anything."

Not that I would expect her to, with how secretive Sara is regarding most things.

"Yeah," Laura says. "Used to scare her father and I to death." She smiles slightly at memories running through her mind. Then, she shrugs. "She eventually grew out of them. But, I guess with everything she went through…her injuries…the surgeries…the trauma to her head…"

Her statement trials off, both of us absently watching the brunette, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

"How are you two doing?" I question hesitantly.

I don't mean to pry into their personal business, but Laura seems different from Sara in the sense that she seems like someone willing to share her thoughts and feelings with you.

"We're working on it," she confesses.

I nod, letting the conversation fall back to silence.

"She's already done much more for me than I deserve," Laura quietly says after a while. "After all I put her through, the last thing I wanted was to be a burden to her again in her adult life."

"I don't think Sara sees you as a burden," I state honestly. "I know things between you two are complicated, but Sara's not the type of person to think that way."

"No," Laura breathes out, running her hand gently through Sara's dark hair. "She isn't."

"She's a lot like her father, you know."

Laura's comment startles me, having never heard Sara speak about her father. I had always assumed things about him based on the information I knew about her backstory, particularly with the information Basderic revealed regarding him being killed by Laura.

"She's always so quiet, so stoic," Laura whispers, eyes lost in thought as she watches the brunette in her arms. "So reserved, but with a heart bigger than one could ever imagine." She smiles, "She's always got that tough girl act going, but she's just like her father. A purely kindhearted soul underneath it all."

I'm surprised to hear this description of Sara's father, and my confusion must register on my face.

"What has Sara told you about her dad?" Laura questions at my expression.

"Nothing," I admit. "She never really talks about her past."

"Well, you know about his death…" Laura leads, watching my expression. "From that man, what he did to her."

"Basderic," I mutter darkly. "Yes."

"Then you know that I killed her father, stabbed him to death," Laura states, features stark as she watches Sara with a mixture of guilt and pain. "And now you know that I killed the person she adored most in this world."

"I…"

Again, I trail off, unable to adjust to this idea of her past.

"Oh, yes," Laura sees my expression. "She and her father were joined at the hip." Laura laughs slightly at the memory. "They would do _everything _together. Go hiking, go camping, attend art and music festivals."

Absently, Laura wipes a tear from her face.

"They were best friends, they _adored_ one another. I used to have to beg them to come in for dinner, beg them at night to stop working on one of their projects and get some sleep."

Laura struggles to keep her voice steady.

"That's why it's hard for me to look at her sometimes," she admits in a whisper. "I see her and I see him. I remember the fact that I took him from her. That I ripped them apart. That I killed her father, the person she adored most in the world, right in front of her."

I swallow tightly, not sure I should be listening to this. I know Sara would never want me to know these things about her, about her past. But, her mother clearly does. She wants someone to hear her story. And, I cannot find it in me to deny that to her.

"I had just figured…" I trail off, still trying to adjust to this picture Laura is painting of Sara's dad.

Laura watches me closely.

"You had just figured he was the one who abused her. That I killed him to protect her and myself."

My eyes widen in shock at her uncanny ability to finish my unspoken thought. Also, they widen at the revelation, at the final confirmation regarding the suspicions I've always held about Sara having had an abusive past.

"There was an incident," I mutter. "I saw her back…the marks…I suspected…but I still hoped…"

Laura nods slowly, features harboring a deep sadness.

"She thinks I don't know," she whispers. "She's always hidden them from me. To this day I don't think she knows I'm aware of…that part of her life."

I run through the scenarios in my head, the possibilities. Trying to figure out what the hell happened in the brunette's past to have bestowed such abuse upon her. If not in her own home, then where? Who?

Her mother watches me, expression sad.

"She went into foster care," Laura whispers, emotion pulling at the words. "I don't know which house it was…she'd been pushed around to so many…but one of them…maybe more than one…"

"Shit," I mutter, rubbing my hands over my face.

Laura shakes her head darkly. "They were supposed to protect my child. They were never supposed to…hurt her…"

Laura wipes at the tears in her eyes.

"But I blame myself," she confesses. "Of course I blame myself. If I'd just taken my medication like I was supposed to…I never would have set those events in motion…that nightmare that became our lives. I was feeling better, I didn't think it would be a big deal to skip a few pills. The next thing I knew…when I realized what I'd done…"

She lets out a soft sob.

"It was too late. Our life, her life, was transformed from normal and happy to a tragic nightmare."

"Not her life," I correct softly after a few moments, trying to collect my own emotions. "That's all her past. Now, all this here, is her life. And, the future is the life you two have yet to write for yourselves."

I reach out, taking Laura's hand gently in mine.

"And, I have a feeling you and Sara still have a lot of chapters to write together," I whisper. "Beautiful chapters."

"I hope you're right, dear," Laura whispers in response, her own hand coming to rest gently on Sara's chest. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Sensing movement, I glance over in time to see Sara blearily opening her eyes, blinking against the early morning sunlight.

Closing them a moment later, she takes a deep breath, almost like she's trying to gather herself together.

Then, she pulls her self upward, body freezing its motion as soon as she catches sight of me.

"Catherine?" she questions in surprise, clearing her throat against the huskiness of sleep.

Sitting the rest of the way up, she absently straightens her t-shirt and boxers.

"What are you doing here?"

I try not to smile as I notice for the first time the snowmen Sara has on her boxer shorts.

Recentering myself as well, I take a deep breath.

"I came by to talk to you, but you were asleep."

"So you sat there the whole time while I slept?" Sara looks at me uncertainly, brows raised.

"No, you weirdo," I snort. "Your mom was out here with you, we were talking."

Sara tenses slightly, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh."

"She ran out to grab some food for dinner or something," I state. "Asked that I keep an eye on you while she was out."

Sara rolls her eyes.

"I don't need a babysitter. I've managed to sleep for years without accidentally offing myself."

I raise my own brows.

"I think she was more concerned about what would happen if you had another seizure."

"Stop," Sara's whispered word cuts me off. "We're not talking about that."

She lifts her eyes to mine.

"I'm serious, Catherine."

"Why not, Sara?" I question, leaning forward in my seat. "Why are you so averse to letting me in?"

Sara turns away.

"What is it you're afraid of, Sara?"

My words do something to Sara, the brunette tensing and eyes flashing back towards mine.

"I'm not afraid."

"Right," I angle my head. "That's why you run off and shut me out anytime things get the least bit personal for you."

Sara's jaw tenses.

"That's not fair," she tells me.

"No?" I question, pushing myself to a stand.

Matching my move, Sara stands as well, placing herself in front of me.

"No."

Silence stretches between us before Sara swallows tightly.

"I'm not the one who ran off."

There it is, the statement she's been waiting to say to me. I can see the relief and regret battling in her hazel eyes in the wake of the admission.

"So that's how you really feel, huh?" I question, stepping closer until there's barely an inch between our bodies. "That I ran off? What happened to all the 'you had a job to get back to' that you told me?"

Sara doesn't back away, though I can tell the closeness between us has her on edge.

"That's not what I'm talking about," she says tightly. "Of course you had to go back to Washington for your job. I'm talking about the other part of why you went back to Washington."

"Yeah, Sara?" I question. "And what would that be?"

"The part of you that was scared because things 'got too personal for you'."

"Don't," I grind out. "Don't you dare take that moment of vulnerability and shove it in my face."

"I'm not," Sara breathes out, eyes wide in confusion. "I wouldn't."

She shakes her head, eyes furrowing.

"All I'm saying is that you can't sit there and judge me for tensing up when things get personal, not when you did exactly the same thing."

Sara's eyes stay on mine.

"You pushed me away, too," she whispers out into the morning air.

I shake my head.

"You told me no, Sara," I breathe out. "I was supposed to what, beg you?"

Her expression is so serious it sends chills across my skin.

"I didn't say no, Catherine," she says quietly. "Or, not like you thought."

"I'm sorry," I furrow my brows. "I thought no means no. I wasn't aware there are other meanings of the word."

Sara's teeth clench tightly.

"You didn't let me explain then," she mutters to herself. "Why did I bother thinking you'd let me explain now…"

"Explain to me!" I tell her, raising my hands up. "Explain to me all the reasons why you 'couldn't be that person for me'!"

My eyes are wide in anger.

"Tell me all the reasons I'm not good enough, or you're not good enough," I continue. "Please, Sara, I'd love to hear the dramatic excuses!"

Sara's eyes watch me, the hazel gaze intense.

"Come on!" I reach out, pushing her slightly in the chest. "Tell me!"

Sara swallows, eyes nearly burning into me.

"I 'couldn't be that person', Catherine," Sara gets out, "Because I was seeing someone else."

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

I try to get words to form, to move from my mind to my lips, but all that happens is my mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again.

"You…" I trail off, trying to gather myself. "Who?"

Sara shakes her head.

"You don't know her."

_Her_.

"Why…"

I shake my head, still trying to get my thoughts together. Sara was seeing someone. I had no idea. She never mentioned her, never said anything.

But again, this is Sara.

"Why didn't you say something?" I finally finish.

She quirks a brow.

"You didn't give me much of a chance."

"You had plenty of chances," I counter. "About fifty-two chess matches worth of chances."

Sara studies me.

"I didn't know you meant it until you kissed me the second time."

"What?"

She shrugs slightly.

"When you kissed me right after I got that damn tube out of my throat, I thought you were just happy that we were alive, that I wasn't going to stroke out on you or something."

She gets serious.

"You didn't say anything about it after that, so I didn't want to read into it too much."

She takes a breath.

"Then, when you kissed me that second time," she breathes out. "I realized what you were trying to tell me."

"And why didn't you say anything then?" I ask, trying to keep my emotions steady.

The 'Sara' issue is one I've worked hard to put behind me. To move on from.

Hearing these confessions from her now, it's almost too much to take in.

"I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening quickly enough," she confesses quietly. "I had no idea…"

She watches me closely.

"With our past, Catherine," her voice trails off. "I didn't in a million years think…"

She clears her throat, taking a deep breath.

"All I knew was that I was seeing someone," she says. "Seeing someone who I was very much in love with."

"That's why you wouldn't let me kiss you," I state.

"Yes," Sara confesses. "I couldn't do that to her."

She clears her throat.

"By the time my brain was catching up with what was happening, you were already out the door."

Sara's eyes for the first time leave mine before returning.

"Then, the next time I saw you, you were telling me you were leaving to go back to Washington."

She runs a hand through her hair.

"I didn't want to complicate things for you, so…"

"So you let me go."

Sara's silence answers me.

"Where was she?" I question. "During all of this…when you let me stay at your place…"

"She goes abroad for her work a lot," Sara answers. "She was in England."

"So she didn't know…"

"She knew," Sara counters. "Contrary to your apparent thoughts of me, I don't go around trying to keep secrets from people." She takes a breath. "Besides, you were a former teammate, you needed my help on a case. It wasn't anything more than helping a friend."

"Until…"

"Until," Sara agrees quietly.

I swallow.

"You and this girl…"

"Claire," Sara supplies. "We're not together anymore."

I take this in, trying to keep my thoughts clear.

"I'm sorry," I tell her honestly. "What happened?"

Sara backs away slightly, putting more room between us.

"Things just didn't work out," she says vaguely, her voice holding a lot back.

"Sara…"

She shakes her head, "It's not important what happened," she says, eyes glancing to the driveway.

Hearing a car pulling up, we both watch her mother pulling in before Sara turns her gaze back to mine.

"I'm sorry I didn't say something before," Sara says quietly, "You deserved an explanation."

Sending me one last look, Sara descends the porch to help her mother.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Thank you to the reviewers – you are all inspiring and appreciated.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 22

"_Affliction, like the iron-smith, shapes as it smites." _

_Christian Nevell Bovee_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Where is she?"

"Catherine?"

"Nick, where is she?!"

Nick glances around, eyes wide at my frantic tone.

"Uh, I think she headed to the garage to work the car from our scene…"

I need nothing else.

"Catherine!" Nick's voice trails after me, but I don't care.

Bursting through the garage door, I hear a curse as Sara pushes herself out from under the car she was working on in confusion.

"Catherine?" she questions, even more confused at seeing who it is that just barged their way into the room.

"Remote…"

"Catherine…"

"Where's the remote?!" I gesture towards the television on the wall frantically.

"Oh, uh…" Sara glances around. "On the desk."

Grabbing it, I turn on the television.

Turning from me to the tv in confusion, Sara immediately recognizes the scene displayed.

That courthouse needs no introduction.

Seeing the text under the news reporter, Sara's body tenses.

"They have a verdict."

I nod, both of our eyes glued to the television as the reporter carries on about how they've gotten word that a verdict has been reached.

"I was on my way here…heard it on the radio…" I breathe out quietly, gaze focused on the television.

Sara doesn't comment, her own body focused and rigid.

Staring for what seems like hours, we both tense as the news reporter stops mid-sentence, moving to place her hand over her earpiece.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she states quickly. "We've just gotten official word from our sources inside the courtroom regarding the verdict."

She pauses, eyes squaring themselves to the camera.

"In the case of the state of Nevada versus Nathanial Redder, the jury has returned with a verdict of guilty."

I don't hear anything else, the room falling to numb silence as the crowd around the reporter reacts to the declaration.

Turning, my hand reaches to cover my mouth, words still unable to come forth from my stunned lips.

Sara's gaze is still on the television, the tall brunette looking intensely at the reporter.

Turning her gaze to mine, she closes her eyes briefly.

Moving towards her, I don't think twice about my actions, not hesitating a moment as I take her into my arms.

Holding her close, I feel the tears making their way from my face to her shirt.

"It's over…" I breathe out.

Sara shifts slightly, moving to wrap her arms around me and return the embrace.

She's quiet, but I can feel the emotions running through her, the pull against the stoic brunette's composure.

Someone enters the room, but quickly leaves once seeing the scene before them.

Instead of pulling away, Sara tightens her hold, moving to place her head atop mine.

"It's over," she finally agrees, voice strained.

Holding her tightly, I relish in this rare moment of unity between us, this moment of closeness that isn't complicated by anything outside of our shared relief at finally finding justice for this case.

For the victims.

For ourselves.

* * *

"You really didn't have to do this."

"Nonsense," I wave the brunette off, continuing to focus on the road as I switch lanes.

"That bastard is off to jail, you deserved an early escape from work."

"And the coffee?" she questions, raising her cup before taking another sip.

"Just a bonus."

She snorts.

"Look Sidle," I raise a brow. "If someone wants to do something nice for them, you let them."

Sara smiles, turning her gaze to the passing scenery.

"Noted."

To be honest, I know after watching the news coverage, neither one of us wanted to be around hoards of people right now.

The whole chaos of the verdict is something both of us wanted nothing more than to avoid.

So, I asked DB if I could take Sara out for coffee, cut her workday a bit short.

Russell seemed nothing short of ecstatic to have someone all but forcing the brunette to take a break.

And, I'm just happy Sara finally agreed to join me.

"Cath…"

About a mile from her home, Sara's voice draws me from my thoughts.

Her tone is unusually nervous, her hand anxiously gripping the seat as she places her coffee back into one of my cup holders.

"Yeah?" I question. "What is it, Sara?"

"Catherine…"

Sara's tone is tight, her eyes squeezing shut as she clenches her teeth together.

"Sara?" I call out in concern, never having seen her this panicked.

She doesn't answer, and I hesitate only a moment before pulling the car off to the side of the road.

Immediately, Sara has her belt undone, throwing her door open and stumbling outside.

"Sara!"

Throwing my own door open, I dodge around the front of the car, catching up with Sara just as she reaches the sidewalk.

Where she immediately drops.

"Sara!" I scream, reaching out for her just as her body hits the cement.

About two seconds pass before her thin frame begins convulsing violently.

"Shit!" I yell, trying to grab her head to keep it from banging against the pavement.

Reaching around her, I try to restrain her similar to how Morgan had, but it's hard to keep my grip on her thrashing form.

Focusing on her head, I at least try to keep it from the pavement, figuring I need to prioritize.

"Sara," I call out, remembering to glance at my watch.

Morgan and Sara both seemed intently focused on how long her previous seizure lasted, and I try to note the time of this one.

"Sara, honey…"

Seeing the seconds tick by, I'm unaware of the world around me, only focusing on the thrashing form of the brunette in my arms.

"Come on, Sar…"

Strangled noises are forced from Sara's throat as she convulses, her eyes rolled back in her head.

It's terrifying to witness.

And, it's especially terrifying to witness it happening to Sara Sidle.

Always the picture of controlled composure.

Seeing her body tortuously convulsing, it's heartbreaking.

"Come on, honey," I plea, knowing it's idiotic, but not having it in me to remain silent while she convulses.

Her body continues seizing.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

Just when I'm about to grab my phone and dial 911, Sara's body suddenly goes still.

"Sara…?"

Nothing.

Sara's body remains limply laying across the sidewalk.

Then, suddenly she stiffens, coughing slightly as she tries to move.

"Woah, hang on there," I call, drawing Sara's confused gaze upward.

Meeting my eyes, she closes her own in what looks like shame.

"Damn it…"

"It's alright, Sara," I try to calm her. "Let's just take this part slow, though, alright?"

She's quiet, hands reaching out to try to get some leverage.

Taking her hands in mine, I'm both startled and heartbroken at how easy it is to restrain her.

Her body is so weak right now, and I can feel her struggling to even take in shallow breaths.

"Let's get you sitting up," I state, using one hand to restrain her wrists while the other places itself behind her shoulders to help lift her to a sitting position.

Sara's body is leaned heavily against my hand, and I know with certainty it's not by choice.

The tortured look in Sara's eyes is all I need to see to let me know it's not by choice.

"It's alright," I tell her gently. "I'll help you to your feet and we'll get out of here, okay?"

Sara keeps fighting to move, to gain back some of her independence.

But, her body is clearly winning the battle over her willpower. She can barely keep herself upright, let alone have the strength to stand.

"I'm going to let go of your wrists," I tell her. "But you try any nonsense and I promise you I'll use your cuffs."

Sara's gaze shifts to mine briefly before looking away.

Wasting no more time, I let go of Sara's wrists to wrap one of her arms around my shoulder instead.

Then, wrapping my other arm around her waist, I lift her to her feet.

Standing with her for a moment to allow her to get her bearings, we move slowly towards the car, Sara's movements clumsy and awkward.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't you dare finish that statement," I order. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

She swallows tightly, one hand moving to clench her side.

Flashing back to her mother's comments about her ribs, I suddenly start to understand why the brunette is still in pain.

Depending on when these seizures started, there's a good bet that her ribs have been struggling to heal in between these violent seizures she's been having. And, having witnessed two of them now, I know there's no way those types of convulsions can be easy on a still recovering body.

"You okay?" I ask, seeing her pale complexion, her fingers clenching her side tightly.

"Yeah."

I don't know why I bothered asking.

Getting her to the passenger side of the car, I help her get into the vehicle, buckling her seatbelt before quickly jogging around to the driver side.

* * *

Pulling back out onto the road, Sara's head drops back to rest on the seat.

"How long?"

Trying to keep my voice steady, I clear my throat.

"Minute fifty three."

Sara clenches her jaw.

We travel the rest of the short distance to her house in silence.

Opening her door, Sara takes off her seatbelt with trembling hands.

"I got it from here," she says.

Like hell.

I cross my arms over my chest, watching Sara try to struggle out of the car, hell bent on trying to do this herself.

Seeing her clinging to the door, she's clearly come to the realization that she's stuck, her legs trembling even worse than her hands.

"Damn it, Sara," I call after a minute of stoic refusal to ask for my help. "Don't move your stubborn ass."

Shutting off the car and rushing to her side, I resume my hold on her.

"Why the hell are you so obstinate?" I question, moving with her slowly up the drive. "You'd have stood there for hours before asking me to help you."

She shakes her head. "I'd have resorted to crawling before then."

I shake my own head. "I sadly have no doubt, Sidle."

We're about halfway up the drive when we hear the front door opening.

"Shit," Sara curses beside me, trying to stand up as straight as she can. "Don't you dare tell her…"

"And what am I supposed to say?" I grind out. "She's clearly noticed something is wrong…"

"Just…I don't know," Sara offers unhelpfully.

Her mother, however, takes the decision from us when she quickly descends the steps.

"When?"

Neither of us say anything, drawing to a stop.

"When was the seizure?" Ms. Sidle questions, moving her gaze between us.

"Catherine?" she asks, likely knowing her daughter is a lost cause.

"About five minutes ago."

"How long?"

I hesitate.

"Minute fifty three."

Laura tightens her jaw, unknowingly mirroring her daughter's reaction.

"Come on," she says, moving around to take Sara's other side. "Let's get you in the house."

"I'm fine," Sara mutters, absolutely hating this.

"Like hell," Laura and I both state in unison.

Getting into the house, Laura and I place Sara down on the couch, her mother disappearing deeper inside.

"What?" I question in a whisper when I see Sara's expression.

She shakes her head at me.

Before I can respond, Laura appears with a glass of water and two pills in her hand.

"Take them," she commands Sara, and I can't help but smile.

Laura is a woman after my own heart when it comes to dealing with the stubborn brunette.

Sara hesitates a moment.

"I have stuff to do," she argues. "I can't keep passing out for hours from those damn pills."

"You also can't keep trying to fight though the pain," Laura responds, gesturing to where Sara's hand has resumed clenching her side.

Removing her hand with a tight swallow, Sara looks away.

"You need to try to give your body a chance to heal, Sara," Laura states quietly. "These seizures aren't helping you in that regard, so a couple hours of rest is a damn good thing for you right now."

Sara lets out a tight breath.

Taking the pills, she swallows them dry.

Giving us both a glare that would be more intimidating if she didn't look so damn frail right now.

"Catherine," Laura says, keeping her eye on Sara, probably to be sure she doesn't try to do anything stupid. "If you'd like, I can show you what to do when she's about to have a seizure. I've learned some tricks over the years from when she was a kid."

Sara's gaze shifts from me to her mother.

"The case is over, mom. Catherine's going back to Washington," Sara says. "She doesn't need to know about that stuff."

Sara's words have started to slur, and I can see the heaviness pulling at her eyes.

Those pills, combined with Sara's underlying exhaustion, are a Godsend.

Sara fights the pull of sleep valiantly for a couple more minutes before eventually her weakened body succumbs.

"Finally," Laura states.

Snorting, I can't help the smile on my face as I help her lower Sara into a laying position, Laura grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch to cover the brunette's legs.

Leaning over, Sara's mom gently takes Sara's hand from it's resumed position along her side, releasing the brunette's tight grip and moving it to lay gently across her stomach instead.

"Laura," I call out softly when she straightens back up.

Laura's eyes meet mine.

"I'd really like to learn what to do when she has seizures."

Laura's gaze searches my own.

She's more than perceptive enough to read between the lines.

"Alright, Catherine," she gestures towards the kitchen. "Let's have a seat."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Thank you reviewers for your continued support, means the world. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 23

"_I never thought much of the courage of a lion tamer. Inside the cage he is at least safe from people." _

_George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Hearing a knock, I try to grab the towel from the stove.

"Mother!" I call, balancing the pot with my other hand.

Nothing.

"Mother! The door!"

"Alright, alright!" my mother calls, finally getting up from the couch to head towards the door.

The door opens and I turn off the stove.

"What a pleasure," my mother drones in a dull tone.

"Nice to see you again, too, Ms. Flynn."

My motions pause, the pot suspended in my hand over the sink.

No way.

Surely, she isn't that much of a masochist.

"Can I help you?" my mother asks rudely. "Or did you just come by to stare?"

I see Sara practically saving my life has done nothing to win the brunette favor in my mother's eyes.

"Mother," I call. "Please let Sara inside the house."

"It's my house," she counters evenly, shrugging.

"Sweet Lord in heaven," I curse, placing the pot aside.

Moving through the living room, I walk right past my mother and take Sara's arm. Leading her inside the house, I send my mother a pointed look as I pass.

"Hey," I offer in greeting to the younger woman, looking her over. I'm surprised to see her here, to be honest.

She was still asleep when I left her house yesterday.

"You alright?" I question, noting that she still looks exhausted.

"Yeah," she waves off my concern. "I have to head into work, but I wanted to ask you something first."

"Oh," I offer. "Okay."

Sara's eyes move from mine to above my left shoulder.

Where they stay.

"Oh, don't mind me," my mother calls behind me. "Anything you say to my daughter, Miss Sidle, you can say to me."

Sara tightens her jaw.

"I should've just called you," she mumbles.

I laugh slightly, gently taking Sara by the arm and reversing our previous movements as this time I lead her back outside the house.

Shutting the front door soundly behind me, I turn to face Sara in the privacy of the porch.

"Sorry," I offer with a relieved sigh. "You were saying?"

"I, uh," Sara shakes her head, glancing out towards the yard. "I wanted to ask you not to say anything to DB…about…"

"About your seizure yesterday?" I raise my brows.

Sara remains silent, head lowered slightly.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I know it's not fair of me to ask that of you…"

"You're right," I tell her. "It's not."

"Please, Catherine," Sara finally lifts her eyes to mine. "I need to be out in the field, this whole thing about being stuck in the lab," she shakes her head. "I'm going insane."

"Yeah?" I question, trying to be understanding of her feelings, but also trying to be realistic. "What happens when you have a seizure at a scene, Sara?"

Sara tightens her jaw, "I can feel them coming," she answers quietly. "Like in the car with you yesterday, I know when one's about to happen."

"Doesn't change the outcome, though," I offer. "You're still placing yourself in jeopardy at a crime scene," I tell her. "Putting the case in jeopardy as well."

Sara turns her gaze back out to the yard.

"It's no different than when I have a seizure at the lab," Sara says. "I know how to not compromise the case."

"It's not really the case I'm worried about," I tell her honestly.

"I don't have to carry my weapon," Sara says. "I can always go with another CSI, no solos."

Sara fixes her gaze on mine.

"There are ways around it. I just can't keep working from the sidelines."

"Have you talked with DB?" I question.

She lets out a breath.

"Took me weeks to get him to even let me into the lab."

"Sara," I rub my temples. "I can't keep this from him if he asks."

Sara nods, "I'm not asking you to lie about it," she states. "I wouldn't do that to you. I'm just asking you, as a favor, not to volunteer the information if he doesn't ask."

She searches my gaze.

"Please."

Breathing out, I know this is the wrong move. I know Sara isn't anywhere near healthy enough to be anywhere near a scene right now. She's meticulous about her cases, and I know she wouldn't ever compromise a scene. It's her recovery I'm worried about.

She looks like shit, and today's shift for her hasn't even begun.

The last thing she needs right now is to be adding new responsibilities.

But, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes, the uncomfortable position she's put herself in coming here and asking this favor of me, it's damn hard to ignore her request.

"If he doesn't ask," I eventually state, "he won't hear it from me."

"Thank you," Sara offers quietly.

She runs a hand through her hair.

"Sara?" I question in the silence that follows.

"Yeah?"

She looks so young, so tired, so shaken right now.

"Can I…"

I trail off, slowly moving closer to her.

She watches me intently, eyes following my every step.

Keeping my gaze on hers, I let her see my intentions.

Carefully, I gently wrap my arms around her thin body.

Holding her close, it takes her a good while before I feel her arms hesitantly return the embrace.

"I'm glad you're okay," I whisper. "Yesterday…"

"I know," Sara gets out tensely. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," my words are stern, stopping any argument before it begins.

We hold each other for a few minutes more before Sara finally pulls away.

Clearing her throat, she takes the keys from her jeans pocket.

"I really need to head in," she says quietly.

"Of course," I state, not wanting to make her late for shift.

As Sara descends the porch, I call out to her.

"I'm trying out this new recipe."

Sara raises a brow.

"Uh…congratulations…?"

I snort.

"I was wondering if you and your mom would like to come over for dinner and give it a try with me, you ass."

Sara smiles and then hesitates, clearly not expecting the invitation.

"Oh…"

"You don't have to," I suddenly get nervous. "I just thought…"

"That sounds nice," Sara offers, cutting off my rant before it can start.

"Really?"

She smiles, "Really. Despite your calling me an ass."

I nod, letting out a relieved breath.

"Alright," I smile. "I'll call you."

Sara nods, getting into her Tahoe and sending me a slight wave before pulling out of the drive.

"Alright…" I breathe out into the morning air.

* * *

Seeing Sara and her mother ascending the drive, I nearly fly out my front door.

"Catherine?" Sara questions, eyes wide as I sprint up to them.

"I think I made a huge mistake…"

"Are you alright, honey?" Laura questions, concerned eyes looking me over.

"She always has her book clubs on Thursday nights," I get out in a rush. "But then, tonight, here she was, sitting on the couch. She tells me it was cancelled. Cancelled!"

"Honey," Laura reaches out, gently holding my arm. "You need to take some deep breaths and tell us what's got you all worked up…"

Sara's pale features tell me she's understood my words and knows exactly what's got me all worked up.

"Fuck."

"Sara!" Laura states, sending her daughter a look that, if I wasn't so terrified would have brought a smile to my face.

"Maybe we can plan a rain check?" I offer, hope coloring my voice.

Then, we hear the front door open.

"Catherine," my mother states. "Perhaps you should invite your guests inside like a proper host."

"Oh," Laura offers, eyes lifting to my mother. "Is that your mother, honey? How nice that she can join us."

Sara and I exchange a look, both caught in a struggle between whether to bolt or puke.

* * *

"Think we should rescue them?"

I smile, "They're setting the table, how much trouble can they get into?"

"Your mother once asked me when I was putting your coffee mug away if I was seeing impaired, because, clearly, the handle of the mug should always face to the right to assist the dominant hand of most individuals."

I snort, "Point taken."

Neither one of us moves to head inside, however, enjoying the fresh air while the meal finishes.

"You alright to be drinking with your seizure meds?" I ask, gesturing to the glass of wine in her hand, trying to keep my tone from sounding anything than how it's intended.

"I'm not on any meds."

I glance over at the brunette in surprise.

Sara sees my expression.

"They'd tried so many in such a short period of time," Sara states. "The doctor wants to go a week without any meds before starting something new. Clear out my system."

"Right," I offer. "Well, good luck."

Sara nods, clearly wanting to change the topic.

"When are you headed back?" she asks me, keeping her gaze out into the night.

Perhaps hearing how that could've sounded, she glances over.

"Not that I…it's nice having you here, it's just I'm sure with the trial over they want you back."

I smile, "I know what you meant, Sara."

Turning, I face the darkness with her.

"I don't know, to be honest," I confess. "I was actually thinking of taking some time off."

"Yeah?" Sara questions.

"I think I need to clear my head for a bit," I answer. "Refocus myself after everything that's happened."

Sara takes this in.

"You okay?" she questions gently. "I mean, handling everything…"

"I'm fine," I gently squeeze her free hand. "Thanks."

Sara nods.

"You know, I'm here," she trails of slightly. "If you ever need. Don't think because…what you saw…"

She swallows.

"I'm still here if you need."

I keep my grip on her hand firm.

"I know, Sara," I tell her with a gentle smile, knowing that with her current health issues, Sara is afraid of appearing weak. Appearing unable to help or support me. "I know you're still here for me, just like you always have been."

She searches my gaze before returning hers to the darkness.

"I think perhaps we should go save your mother from mine," I offer, registering how weird it is to be saying that sentence.

Sara smiles.

"I think that's wise."

* * *

"So, tell me about the work you do?"

My mother's question hangs in the air, Laura's fork paused near her mouth.

It's about the fifteenth awkward question my mother's directed at Laura since we sat down.

"Oh…" she says hesitantly. "I uh…I'm sort of between things right now."

"Yeah?" my mother continues relentlessly. "Well then, what did you previously do?"

Sara clears her throat.

"Catherine, what's in this sauce?" she questions. "It's amazing."

"Thanks," I gladly pick up the new topic. "Just some tomato, garlic, but also some ginger."

"Ginger," Laura smiles. "That's what that is. I've been trying to place that taste all night."

Laura smiles at me.

"You have a gift with food," she compliments sincerely. "This is one of the beast meals I think I've had."

"They didn't serve pasta like this where you were staying?" my mother questions, and my heart nearly drops in my chest. "Guess it's not in the state budget."

Sara's jaw tightens, the brunette clenching her fork so tightly her fingers are pale.

"No," Laura answers quietly, keeping her calm. "You're right, they didn't serve this where I was."

"Which was where, exactly?" my mother continues, eyes boring into Laura. "It's all rather ambiguous on the news with this case our daughters were involved in. They just kept mentioning the part in the testimony where it was revealed about your killing your husband and then 'going away'."

Sara places her fork heavily on her plate.

"Mother," I state tightly. "Let's move onto something else."

"Catherine, it's fine, honey," Laura offers gently. "I was at a treatment center for my sentence, Ms. Willows."

"It's Ms. Flynn," my mother bites harshly. "Some of us elect to keep our own name, not the name of a husband we stabbed to death."

Instantly, Sara shoots to her feet, her body leaning across the table and her hands grabbing my mother by her sweater before anyone can move.

"Sara!" Laura calls, quickly moving up behind them.

Me, I'm too shocked to do more than stand numbly.

"Don't you ever talk to my mother like that," Sara grinds out. "You want to give me shit about anything and everything? Fine. But don't you_ dare _talk to my mother that way."

My mother pushes herself to stand in front of Sara, the brunette seething through a clenched jaw.

My mother smiles sweetly, "Quite the temper your daughter's got there, Ms. Sidle. Wonder where she gets that from."

"Oh, no, Ms. _Flynn_," Laura states. "If she had my temper, you wouldn't still be breathing."

For the first time, my mother's smirk falters, her eyes glancing between Sara and her mother.

"I want you both out of my home."

"Gladly," Sara offers, pushing herself away from my mother.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," Sara addresses me, expression pained. "I didn't mean for this."

I nod numbly, knowing deep down I expected something to happen, but nothing of this magnitude.

Placing a calming hand on her daughter's back, Laura gently guides Sara towards the door.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," she offers to me as well as she passes, sadness coloring her eyes

Hearing them leave, I'm left in the shocked silence of the dining room.

* * *

The next morning, I know Sara is surprised to see me sitting outside the lab when she arrives at work.

"Catherine," she offers somewhat tentatively, glancing around. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I assure her. "I actually came by to have a quick word with you before work."

I gesture towards the side of the building. "You mind?"

Sara follows me around to the side wall.

Once we're in a more private setting, I face the brunette.

"So, dinner…"

Sara cringes, shaking her head.

"I'm so sorry, Catherine."

"Don't," I offer. "That's probably the most entertainment I've had at a dinner party in awhile."

Sara looks at me, still looking guilty.

"I grabbed your mother," she breathes out with a groan. "And then, to top things off, my mother threatened to kill her."

I watch Sara before bursting out laughing.

"You can't make this shit up," I get out.

I felt horrible after that dinner, didn't sleep at all last night. I felt terrible about what happened, what was said. I wanted to touch base with Sara this morning, to reset things hopefully to where they were before that disaster.

"I'm sorry for the way my mother acted," I offer. "The things she said to your mom…"

Sara watches the horizon.

"You don't have to apologize," Sara says. "She said them, not you."

"I know things are complicated between you and your mom right now," I offer. "And I really hope last night didn't complicate things further."

Sara shakes her head, "I think last night gave my mother and I some common ground for the first time in a very long while."

Sara goes quiet, and I know there's a lot going through her mind right now that she isn't saying.

"Well," I breathe out eventually, knowing I'm not going to get anything more out of the private brunette. "Just know that there's no hard feelings on this end. My mother's…a complicated woman…and she wasn't always like this."

Sara nods.

"I don't presume to know or judge your mother any more than anyone else. She has her story, I'm sure. Her reasons for things."

I shake my head in disbelief.

"You've got to tell me where you buy whatever the hell zen pills you take, Sara Sidle."

Sara looks at me curiously before she eventually snorts and smiles, watching me with a confused and also slightly amused expression on her face.

Watching her in the morning light, I have to work at not getting lost in her hazel eyes or her rare smile.

I know I need to figure myself out.

I'm not being fair to Sara nor Ben right now, both of them completely unaware of the other.

But, I also need time to figure out what exactly it is I want before I go any further with either of them.

I feel such an attraction to Sara, especially now that I know she's available. I can't deny how I feel when she's near me, when I'm around her.

She has this presence about her, which is difficult to explain as the brunette is traditionally quiet, reserved. But, she has this intensity about her that draws you in.

But, I also feel the sense of complication when it comes to the brunette.

Sara is guarded, extremely hard to read. She censors herself and her emotions to a point that I don't know what she's thinking most of the time.

And, she's also going through a hell of a lot right now.

Ben, on the other hand, is straightforward.

I know what he's thinking, what he's feeling.

He's direct and clear in his desires, including his desire to start a life with me.

He's offered me a safe and secure home with him in Washington.

And, after all the uncertainty I've previously had in my life, the guaranteed life he's offering is more than appealing.

Sara's a gamble, a risk.

Ben isn't.

It's time I figure out just how much I'm willing to put on the line.

Figure out if I'm willing to risk following my heart instead of following my head.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Thank you to the reviewers, much appreciated. And, katvrah, hopefully this chapter will help with your question. But basically, no, Cath's mom has not been a fan of Sara. :/ Thank you again to you guys who take the time out of your day to share your thoughts/opinions with me. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 24

"_Whatever there be of progress in life comes not through adaptation but through daring, through obeying the blind urge." _

_Henry Miller_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"I said hello…"

"I heard you."

"Oh, so you're not speaking to me now, is that it?"

"Mother," I turn, looking at her over my shoulder. "Are we really going to do this?"

"Well, you're clearly upset."

"Clearly."

My mother crosses her arms over her chest.

"I didn't do anything wrong, Cathy."

"Oh," my eyebrows rise to my hairline. "Really?"

I turn to fully face her.

"You think the things you said to Laura yesterday were perfectly fine?"

"Laura?" my mother shakes her head. "Now the two of you are on a first name basis?"

I shrugs, "Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, that's just lovely, dear," my mom smiles, but it's anything than pleasant.

"What is your issue with her?" I question sincerely. "You never even met the woman before, and you practically jumped down her throat."

My mother tenses, turning to straighten the items on the counter.

The already organized items.

"I can't believe a girl as smart as you can't figure out my issues with her," my mother states sternly.

"She has a past," I agree. "But that doesn't make her a bad person. Both of us should know that more than anyone."

"Your past was different," my mother glares. "You didn't kill someone."

"She didn't know what she was doing," I say. "She was mentally ill."

"Was?" my mother questions with raised brows. "I wasn't aware there was a cure for schizophrenia or bipolar disorder or whatever it was she was diagnosed with."

"You know what I meant."

"I also know what I warned you about, Cathy," my mother straightens up to advance a couple steps towards me angrily. "I told you to stay away from that Sara girl. That she was a problem. And that was _before_ I hear that her mother suffers from mental illness to the point where she _kills _someone, a fact which you apparently _knew_, and yet you still invite them to dinner like they're the Brady bunch."

I shake my head, not believing the words coming from my mother's mouth.

"They're good people," I tell her tightly. "Whether you want to believe that or not, they are."

"I _don't_ believe that," my mother shrugs. "I don't trust Sara, and I certainly don't trust her mother."

My mom fixes me with a look that I remember well from my youth.

"Don't be wasting your time with those sorts of people, Catherine. You have a wonderful job now with the FBI, you're happy in Washington." She shakes her head. "Don't throw all that away on a murderer and her troubled daughter."

I tighten my jaw, tossing my mail down on the counter.

"I'm an adult," I tell her. "I can decide who I keep in my life for myself."

We stare each other down.

Eventually, I take a breath, shaking my head.

"She saved my life, mother."

My mom looks away.

"No," I tell her. "You can't spit out all these assumptions you have about Sara and then refuse to listen to the truth."

I breathe out, trying to steady my emotions.

"Those men took me," I get out. "And she came after them, sacrificing her own life so I wouldn't be there alone. So that I would have a chance at the team finding me and getting me out of there."

I wipe at the moisture in my eyes.

"They beat her," I get out, voice shaking. "They tortured her."

I make sure my mother's eyes remain on mine.

"All that pain, and she did it all to save me and those other girls."

This time I'm the one who advances on my mother, putting us merely inches apart.

"You want to judge her? Disrespect her and her family?" I state. "Then know you're disrespecting the person who literally _died_ to save your own daughter's life."

Shaking my head in disgust, I give my mother one last look before leaving the room.

* * *

"You okay?"

I look up, sending Morgan a smile.

"Yeah, sorry," I tell her. "Just thinking I guess."

Morgan nods, sending me a supportive look.

"You have a lot to be thinking about."

I watch the young girl, knowing she's one of the most perceptive members of the team. Clearly, out of anyone, she's the one who's picked up on the odd tension around me and a particular other member of the team.

"I do," I confirm.

I put down my fork, rubbing my temples.

"I don't know, Morgan," I breathe out. "I just don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"I think you know what you're doing," Morgan counters, pushing her own empty plate away. "But I think you also know the other options regarding what you _could_ be doing."

I watch her as she watches me.

"She'll be okay," Morgan states quietly. "Regardless of what you decide about going back to Washington."

The young blond keeps her eyes fixed on mine, confident in her assessment of the situation.

"We'll take care of her," she tells me.

I nod, trying to keep the emotion from my eyes.

"I know you will."

I trust Morgan when it comes to Sara. Morgan may be a bit of a little sister when it comes to the brunette, but she's damn feisty with a stubborn streak all her own. She isn't going to let Sara get away with any of the brunette's nonsense.

"I just…I keep seeing her…her being tortured…all her blood…everywhere…"

Morgan reaches out, taking my shaking hand in her own.

"I can't close my eyes at night without seeing her hanging there…slowly dying…"

I choke back a sob, Morgan squeezing my hands across the restaurant table.

"It's alright," Morgan breathes out, letting me voice my confession that I've yet to share with anyone.

"I look at her, and I think about how close we came to losing her…" I shake my head. "It scares me, Morgan."

Morgan takes in my words, supporting me as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

"She's going to be okay," Morgan whispers once I've composed myself.

"Is she?" I ask, letting the question hang silently between us.

"She's Sara," Morgan eventually states, both of us once again falling to silence.

* * *

"What's this?" Sara questions, a confused smile on her face as she enters her house.

"This, my dear," I smile back, "is attempt at dinner number two."

Sara snorts before shaking her head, wide eyes roaming over the food set out over the table.

"Hey," Laura greets Sara as she enters the room to place the last wine glass out. "How was work?"

Sara shrugs, placing her keys on the counter. "It was fine."

Laura and I share a look at Sara's characteristically vague answer.

"Good," Laura says, pulling out a chair. "Now, get your skinny ass over here and let's eat."

Sara rolls her eyes, stifling a smile as she makes her way to join us at the table.

"My God," Sara mutters, eyes taking in the elaborate meal spread out before us. "I didn't remember I even had this silverware."

"We spared no effort," I tell the brunette. "Everyone enjoy."

Starting to serve the food, we all fall into contented silence before talking about our days.

We laugh, we smile, we have the dinner that we should have had the other night.

I'm so glad that Laura and I were able to work things out this afternoon. I stopped by after lunch with Morgan to apologize to Sara's mom. I wanted to be sure she knew that I didn't share any of my mother's thoughts or feelings that she spewed the other night.

Laura was incredibly gracious, telling me nothing was my fault and that all was forgiven.

We talked for awhile more before deciding to try again with our dinner. Laura and I shared recipes, combining different dishes of ours to make one giant feast.

It was amazing and cathartic.

It was exactly what I needed after the emotional day I had.

Glancing over at Laura, I smile as I watch her smiling at her daughter.

It's a beautiful scene, and one I hope the brunette and her mother have many more of.

* * *

"This was really nice," Sara says quietly as we reach my car. "Thanks again for doing this."

"Of course," I tell her, returning her soft smile.

Sara and I stand there awkwardly, neither one knowing quite what to do.

"Well…" Sara breathes out in almost a whisper. "Have a good night, drive safe."

"Thanks."

Sara nods, turning to leave, when I reach out and grab her by the shirt.

As if possessed, I pull her to me.

I hesitate only a moment before my lips crash into hers.

The kiss is desperate, emotional, a fulfillment of a desire I've had all evening.

It's also unreciprocated.

_Not again. God, not again…_

Pulling back, I step away.

"I'm sorry, Sara…I…"

Before I can apologize further, I find myself pushed back against my car.

Sara's hands find my hips the same time her lips find my own.

The kiss is searing, passionate. Immediately, our tongues fight for dominance, both of us holding the other tightly, pressing our bodies as close as physically possible.

Sara's hips push into mine, and I groan, fingers gripping her hair tightly with clenched fists.

We don't care about neighbors, privacy, all we care about is each other.

Sara moves her hands from my hips to run them up my sides.

I moan into her mouth, moving my own hands lower, dragging my nails across the skin at the back of her neck, down her shoulders.

I can feel the reaction in Sara's body, the way her breathing hitches.

When I feel her leg press between mine, I think my own breathing completely stops altogether.

"Sar…" I struggle to get out. "This…here…"

Sara doesn't hear me, or perhaps more likely, she ignores me.

Biting down gently on her bottom lip, I capture her mouth before moving my own lower, placing a trail of fevered kisses down her neck.

"We…need…stop…"

My mumbled words sound half-assed even to myself.

"Why…would we…"

Sara's own words cut through the night, and for some reason they stop me in my tracks.

_Why would we stop?_

One very big reason plants itself in my mind and I cannot shake it.

One very big reason named Ben Wellington.

"We," I try to catch my breath. "We need to stop…"

Sara watches me, own breathing working to steady itself.

She moves subtly back.

Holding her tightly in place, I keep my grip and my gaze on her.

"I want this," I tell her. "You have no idea how badly. But…I need to sort something out first."

Sara remains watching me, her intense hazel eyes searching my own.

Finally, she nods.

"Alright," she offers quietly.

Then, moving back further, she works to gently separate herself from me.

"I'm here when you're ready," she quietly offers.

Her kindness, her sensitivity to my needs, it makes this all the harder.

Sara is the damn noblest, loyalist, kindest person I think I've ever encountered.

And, she deserves the same from me.

"I'll see you soon," I promise her.

She nods, keeping watch as I get into my car and pull out of her drive.

The decision is made.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Thank you for the reviews and continued support of this story. Hope everyone is doing well.  
**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 25

"_One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love - any love - reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness." _

_Cesare Pavese_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"I'm not helping you commit murder or something, am I?"

Sara smiles slightly, sending me a look before continuing along the rocky path.

"The vic had all these brochures from this park in his home," she says over her shoulder. "This particular trail was circled on all of them."

"So you're wondering if there's something special out here that attracted the vic's attention."

"Yup."

"So, this isn't considered being out at a scene?" I broach tentatively.

"I'm off the clock," she states evenly. "My shift ended two hours ago."

I shake my head even though the stubborn brunette can't see me.

"Well, I'm so glad you invited me along," I mumble as I wipe more sweat from my face, squinting my eyes against the blazing sun.

Sara tries to hide her smile when she turns.

"It's just a few more miles, Cath."

"Miles?!"

* * *

Taking the offered water from Sara, we both look around us.

"It's beautiful," I state, trying to catch my breath.

Sara nods, eyes taking in the landscape. It's mostly rocky desert, but there's a series of waterfalls cascading down the side of the steep rock face in front of us.

"Here," I offer, handing her the water.

She moves to take it, wincing slightly at the action.

Clearing her throat, she turns away.

"You alright?" I question, knowing she's likely praying I didn't just see that.

"Yeah."

Seeing her hand subtly trying to hold her side, I, despite my own complaining, realize how difficult this hike must have been for the brunette.

Also, I feel my heart sink as I think about what would happen if she had a seizure all the way out here. With this heat, this distance, there's no way we'd be able to make it all the way back to the car.

I don't even want to try to look at my phone to see if we have cell phone reception.

"Stop."

Sara's smoky voice draws me from my thoughts.

"Stop worrying about me," Sara says quietly. "I'm not as fragile as you think."

I shake my head, meeting her eyes.

"I don't think you're fragile at all, Sara," I tell her honestly. "Quite the opposite."

I send her a look. "I think you're one of the strongest and most resilient people I know," I tell her. "But you're also one of the most stubborn," I admit. "And that combination scares me sometimes."

Sara looks away.

"It scares me to think what would happen if you had a seizure out here and I couldn't do anything to help."

Sara's gaze moves over to me.

"It's not your responsibility."

"So you keep telling me."

Sara swallows.

"They have me on a new medication."

"Yeah?" I question, grateful for the information. Sara's usually so closed off about this type of stuff that I appreciate her compromise.

"How long?" I ask her.

"Two days."

"Seizures?"

"Not yet."

I nod, taking a deep breath.

"I hope it works out," I tell her genuinely.

I want nothing more than for the brunette to be able to have her life back. She didn't deserve what those monsters did to her. And, she certainly doesn't deserve to still be paying the price, and perhaps paying the price for the rest of her life.

"Me too," Sara whispers, hand absently tightening her grip on her side.

"Does it…" I trail off quietly.

Sara's eyes lift to mine.

We're both quiet, the sound of the water trickling through the rocks the only noise around us.

"Can I…?" I broach hesitantly, taking a couple tentative steps closer to the brunette.

"Why?" Sara questions quietly. "Why would you want to see…?"

"Because I see it anyway every night in my nightmares," I confess.

"Catherine," Sara breathes out. "You can't do this to yourself."

She slowly moves closer to me, reaching out to place her hand gently on my arm.

"You can't let those bastards affect your life like this."

She looks me in the eyes, "I'm fine. We made it out of that hell. And now we need to go on living our lives. If not for ourselves, than for the girls that didn't get that chance."

I nod tearfully, glancing up at her in surprise when I feel her fingers gently wipe the moisture from my face.

She waits a few moments, watching me carefully.

"You alright?" she questions.

"Yeah," I tell her, squeezing her hands. "Thanks."

She nods, separating herself from me and putting some distance between us.

Taking a deep breath, she glances around.

"What do you say we head back?" she questions. "I think what attracted our vic here was simply the beauty."

I nod, taking one last glance around at the stunning scenery before following Sara along the path back to the car.

* * *

The minute we pull into my drive, my blood runs cold.

Heart hammering in my chest, I register Sara looking at me curiously.

"You okay?" she questions in concern. "Who is that?"

My features pale, my hand fumbling for my seatbelt.

"I'm fine, Sara," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll see you later, thanks for the ride."

Sara watches me curiously, eyes following me as I get out of the car and make my way to the house.

"What are you doing here?" I question, keeping my voice low.

"Catherine," Ben states quietly. "You can't expect to tell me what you did over the phone and not have me come out here to talk with you about it in person."

He looks tired, hurt, confused.

"I think I deserve at least that much."

"Of course you do," I tell him. "Which is why I told you I was going to be heading back out to Washington to talk with you more."

"Right, and also to pack your things apparently."

He shakes his head, "Sorry, but I couldn't wait for that."

Pinching his temples, he looks at me, blue eyes troubled.

"Please, Catherine, you have to tell me what's going on."

"I told you," I state quietly, hating to see his hurt expression. "I've decided to come back to Vegas."

I look up at him.

"This is where my heart is, Ben."

I shake my head, wiping tears from my eyes for the second time today. "I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" he asks, his own eyes looking tearful. "I thought we were doing perfect together."

He swallows. "I thought you were happy."

"I was," I tell him sincerely. "I really was."

"What changed?"

"I changed," I tell him honestly. "This whole ordeal out here….it made me realize I only have so much time in this world."

"Right," he whispers. "And you don't want to spend it with me."

"Ben," I plead. "Don't do this. I'm trying to be honest with you here. I'm not trying to hurt you."

"Well," he states quietly. "I'm sorry for feeling hurt by my fiancé telling me she no longer wants to spend the rest of her life with me."

I hear a jingle of metal to my left.

Eyes shooting over, I notice for the first time that Sara had gotten out of the car.

"I'm sorry…" she whispers, stunned eyes moving from between Ben and I.

"You looked upset," she mumbles. "I wanted to be sure…"

Sara glances between us one last time before she readjusts the keys in her hands and steps back.

"I'm sorry…" she offers one last time before retreating to the car.

"Sara!" I call, but the brunette doesn't even pause.

Quickly getting into her Tahoe, she closes the door and is out of the drive before I can register this turn of events.

* * *

"Where is she?"

Laura looks at me, stunned at my demeanor.

"Catherine?" she questions. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I shake my head. "No."

Taking a deep breath, I try to look past her into the house.

"Is Sara here?" I question desperately.

"No," Laura shakes her head. "She never came home for dinner. Is everything okay, Catherine?"

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "All I know is that I need to find your daughter."

_Before she does something stupid_ I add silently in my mind.

* * *

Sara's brilliant.

She chose the one place I would never expect to find her.

In fact, I only went there because I needed to enlist the help of Morgan.

But, turned out Morgan, and the rest of the team, were long gone.

Well, all of the team except for one.

"Are you crazy?" I question, closing the door tightly behind me.

Sara laughs.

"Probably," she says. "If the scene in front of your house was any indication."

She shrugs.

"But apparently I'm not only crazy," she says. "I'm also an idiot."

"Sara…"

"Don't bother," she says, pushing herself up from the cold metal table. The table that used to serve as the autopsy table when the CSI building first opened. Now that Doc Robbins uses the upgraded morgue the lab built about ten years ago, no one ever goes in here.

Well, almost no one.

"Hey," I call out, grabbing her arm.

"Don't touch me," Sara gets out, pulling her arm from my grip.

"And where do you think you're going to go?" I question her. "You're drunk, Sara! At work!"

"I'm not on duty."

"Doesn't matter!" I yell. "You're on the property."

"I wanted to be alone," she says. "This was the one place…"

"Apparently not," I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest. "We need to get you out of here before someone else finds you."

"_We _don't need to do anything," Sara counters. "There is clearly no _we._"

"Don't presume to know what you walked in on," I tell Sara, my own emotions rising.

"Right," she drawls out. "Fine."

She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Fine, Catherine. Tell me that man wasn't your fiancé."

She waits a pause.

"Tell me you two weren't together when you kissed me."

She waits another pause.

"Weren't together any of the _three_ times you kissed me."

Sara's watches me.

"If you can't tell me that," Sara gets out. "Then I don't want to hear anything else."

"I ended things with him," I get out. "That's why he was here."

"Oh," Sara nods. "And that makes it okay?!"

She stares me down.

"Does he even know who I am, Catherine?" she questions.

I hesitate.

"I'm not doing this again," Sara gets out. "I'm not being the 'other woman' for someone too confused to figure out what the hell they want."

"I know what I want!" I counter sternly, advancing on her. "I told him what I want."

I grab hold of her wrist.

"And now I'm telling you. I want _you_, Sara."

Sara watches me, eyes a mixture of hurt, betrayal, anger.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why the hell would you want me?" she gets out. "You have a gorgeous fucking _fiancé _back in Washington, where you have a job that pays three times what you ever made here…why in the hell would you want this over all of that?"

"Because I love you."

The words hang between us, echoing around the cold, metallic room.

"I love you," I get out again.

"You just think you do," Sara whispers. "Because of…"

She swallows.

"You just think you do because you feel guilty."

"That's not true," I counter.

"No?" Sara questions.

Without warning, she pushes back from me.

Stumbling slightly in her inebriation, she places herself in the center of the room.

Eyes piercing through mine, she reaches down.

Before I know what she's doing, she takes hold of her dark t-shirt and pulls it over her head.

Tossing it aside, Sara stands there before me in her jeans and her bra, arms outstretched in a position of surrender.

"Look at me," Sara says tightly. "Look at what you wanted to see before, when you confessed to me you still have nightmares about it, and tell me you're not still here because deep down you still feel guilty."

My eyes want to look away, to not look at her like this, in this vulnerable state.

But, my gaze betrays me, eyes moving from her hips up to her sides. My breathing hitches as I take in the deep purple discoloration along her left side, the bruising from her still damaged ribs.

Moving up further, I pause again at her shoulder, the gunshot wound an angry red against her pale skin. I see her collarbone, the healed bone protruding more prominently from her skin than her uninjured one. I see all her bones, her ribs, her hip bones, I see them all much too clearly than anyone should be able.

"Sara…" my voice is a choked whisper. "Don't do this…"

Sara stands there, exposed, her arms remaining outstretched.

"I can't let you choose this, Catherine," she gets out, voice strained. "Not when you have someone else offering you so much more than I can ever give you."

"I love you, Sara," I get out. "I don't love him, not how I love you."

"Do you know why Claire left me, Catherine?" Sara questions, her unexpected words catching me off guard.

"Sar…"

"I got out of the hospital," Sara says tightly. "And the first night we were together…after…" she swallows at the memory. "She saw me, saw this."

Sara forces a deep breath in.

"Then she saw a seizure."

Shaking her head, she looks at me sadly.

"I was stupid to pursue things with you," Sara forces out. "Seeing Ben today, the life he apparently offered you, made me realize that."

She lowers her head slightly.

"I can't let you choose this life over that one."

"You don't know Ben," I whisper out into the cold room. "How do you know the life he's offering me is any better?"

Sara shakes her head. "Anything has to be better than this."

Her words remain slurred and she looks like she can barely stand.

Standing, however, becomes the least of my worries when all of a sudden I note her eyes starting to roll back.

"Shit," I yell, rushing forward to grab her. "Sara!"

Catching her as she drops to the ground, I grab her tightly just as her body is overtaken by violent convulsions.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Sorry for the delay in updates, this week was hell to say the least, and didn't give me much time to post. Thanks to everyone for their continued support of the story, you guys are the greatest. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 26

"_The TRUTH: It may not lead you to where you thought you were going, but it will always lead you somewhere better. When ignored, it will eventually show itself. The closeness of your relationships is directly proportional to the degree to which you have revealed the truth about yourself. It can be painful." _

_Unknown Source_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Sara can't keep her head up, let alone fight me off. But, true to her nature, she's damn well trying.

"Stop," I command sternly, keeping my grip around her waist firm, my other hand keeping her arm over my shoulders. Sara's feet are all but dragged along, her movements shaky and weak.

Sara tries to say something, but she can barely get out a groan, voice slurred.

"Sara, I'm sorry, but you need to relax and stop fighting me."

The glass doors slide open in front of me, Sara putting in one last ditch effort of resisting.

"What the hell…?"

Seeing movement following the shocked words spoken to my right, I turn to see Hannah coming towards us from the hallway behind the reception desk.

"Catherine?" she questions, eyes wide as she takes in the sight of the brunette all but held up in my arms.

"She had a seizure," I explain quickly, trying not to panic at the feeling of Sara trembling in my arms, the brunette's breathing haggard as she drags in shallow breaths.

I fill Hannah in on the details of the seizure - length, loss of consciousness.

As she reaches out to help me support the brunette, I give her the last piece of information.

"She was drinking."

Hannah pauses, hands stationary as they stop inches from the brunette.

"You…"

She shakes her head.

"You can't be serious."

"I don't know how much," I say. "But she was drunk enough to be slurring her words."

Hannah's wide eyes shift from mine to Sara.

"What in God's creation were you thinking, Sara?" Hannah grinds out, watching as the brunette doesn't react at all to her words, Sara simply trying to take in one labored breath after another.

"Jesus," Hannah forces out angrily. "She's going to kill herself doing shit like that."

Moving and completing her previous actions, Hannah takes hold of Sara's other side, wrapping her arms around Sara's hips.

Feeling Sara struggle, Hannah shakes her head.

"Don't even start with me, Sidle," she threatens sternly. "You are so deep on my shit list I can't even tell you."

Walking together, Hannah tells me that there's an open room in the back, making our way quickly down the hall. Entering, I help her get Sara situated on the bed.

Sara's eyes are hazy, not focusing on anything as they stare at the back wall of the room.

"I'm going to get the doctor," Hannah says, rushing towards the door. "Be right back."

As soon as she leaves, my eyes glue themselves to Sara.

I watch her struggling to breathe, for the first time realizing in my haste to get Sara to the hospital that I never even grabbed her shirt.

Moving closer to the bed, I hesitate only a moment before I reach out, gently placing my hand over Sara's chest.

Feeling her breath hitch, she resumes taking in labored breaths, eyes unfocused.

"Relax, honey," I whisper, feeling her heart racing under my hand. "You're safe, you're okay."

She doesn't react to me, my words. It's like she's somewhere else, eyes distant like she's seeing things the rest of us can't.

Running my hand lower, my fingers move gently across her cold skin, tracing a gentle path along each scar, moving towards her jeans where my hand finally comes to rest near her hip.

"You're beautiful," I whisper, shaking my head sadly. "If only you'd let yourself believe that as well."

Silent moments tick by before they're suddenly interrupted by a flurry of noise and activity. All but pushed out of the way, doctors and nurses begin to assess Sara, calling out stats and directions to one another.

Moving back to watch them from afar, I try to take my own advice and relax.

Now is the time to trust that Sara's in good hands.

* * *

"Thanks for calling me," Sara's mom breathes out as she rushes into the waiting room, skin pale and hair disheveled. "I got here as quickly as I could."

We exchange a hug, both of us taking comfort in the other's embrace.

"She's still back with the doctors," I tell her when we pull apart. "They kicked me out a little while ago, that's when I called you."

Laura nods, taking some calming breaths before we move to sit.

She asks me what happened, and so I tell her, recounting it all. The drinking, the seizure.

Sara can be pissed at me all she wants, but the people who care for her need to know what happened.

If for no other reason than to ensure it never happens again.

"Damnit Sara," Laura curses under her breath, eyes downcast. "What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry…"

Laura looks up at me, surprised eyes taking in the tears on my face.

"Honey," she says softly. "You have nothing to be sorry for…this isn't your fault."

I shake my head.

"She was upset," I confess. "She drank because she was upset."

"She's an adult," Laura states. "She knows how to handle her anger like an adult."

I agree, but I still feel guilty as hell.

"She found out I had a fiancé."

My whispered words clearly reach Laura, Sara's mom pausing her breathing, her body going completely still.

Slowly, she turns in her chair to fully face me.

I know Laura has been perceptive enough to notice the interaction between me and her daughter. It's clear that this revelation catches her just as off guard as it did Sara.

It may be selfish, but I need to get this out, get it off my chest.

"I broke things off with him," I get out in a whisper. "I realized I loved her, and I needed to take the chance to be with her."

Laura watches me, taking in my words, her gaze returning to the busy hospital around us before returning back to me.

"But Sara didn't know about him?"

"No," I confess. "She found out today, when he showed up at my house."

Laura swallows tightly, clearly trying to keep her emotions neutral.

"Sara…she…" Laura trails off, trying to form her words. "Her trust isn't something given easily…"

"I know," I tell her. "I know I screwed up with how I handled this. I was hoping to go back to Washington to talk with Ben, then talk everything out with Sara. But then he showed up."

Laura listens quietly, silence stretching between us.

"Do you really love her?"

Laura's whispered question rings through the waiting room.

"Yes," I whisper back into the silence.

Laura nods, finally returning her eyes to mine.

"Then you need to fight for her, Catherine," she tells me. "Sara isn't going to make any of this easy. She's even more stubborn now than when she was a child. But…"

Laura breathes out.

"But if you truly want to be with her, then you need to fight for the life you want."

"But what if she doesn't want the same?"

Laura watches me.

"Did she say that?"

"No," I confess. "She said she doesn't want this life for me, but she didn't say what she wanted regarding this life for her."

Laura shakes her head.

"Sara's life has taught her a lot about pushing people away," Laura states quietly. "She doesn't feel worthy or capable of true love when it comes her way. And," Laura breathes out, "she's unfortunately encountered a lot of people who only served to instill that idea in her further."

I listen to Laura's words, mind immediately thinking of Claire. The person who apparently recently all but told Sara she was damaged goods, that she wasn't someone worth sticking around for. That the good Sara offered wasn't enough to overcome the challenges being with the brunette presented.

"I'm not giving up on her, Laura," I state evenly. "If that's what you're asking."

Laura searches my eyes.

"Your daughter deserves, more than anyone I know, to be happy."

I take a deep breath against the emotions gathering in my throat.

"And I hope someday she'll let me, want me, to be the person to bring that happiness to her life."

We both fall back to silence, taking in the words spoken between us.

Our reflections are interrupted, however, when we notice a doctor approaching.

The first thing I notice about him as I pull myself to a shaky stand is his troubled expression.

The second thing I notice is his scrubs.

His scrubs which are spattered with blood.

* * *

"Doctor?"

The doctor looks at us briefly before taking a deep breath.

"She had another seizure."

"Again?" Laura asks in shock.

"Yes," the doctor confirms somewhat grimly. "We got her stabilized, but the seizure progressed for nearly five minutes."

He meets both of our eyes.

"We had to give her clonazepam to finally get it to stop."

Both Laura and I are silent.

"What does that mean…?" I eventually get out.

"Any time a seizure lasts for more than five minutes you're risking the potential for brain damage," the doctor explains. "Benzodiazepines, such as clonazepam, are used intravenously to try to stop a seizure that doesn't resolve on its own by that time frame."

"Her seizures have always stopped on their own before five minutes," Laura whispers, eyes lost in memories. "Only once, when she was very young, did one last longer."

"Seizures are unpredictable," the doctor answers. "No two people with seizures are alike, and no two seizures are often alike."

"What happened?" I interject, pointing to his scrubs, no longer able to hold back my question.

"She had a nosebleed," he responds. "With her convulsions, there was a bit of a mess."

Before I can help it, images flash quickly into my mind, one horrible vision after another.

Sara trying to talk to me, blood running from her nose and mouth. Sara in the middle of that room, choking on her own blood. Sara hanging from those chains, blood running from her nose to the floor.

"Catherine," Laura gently calls placing a hand on my arm. "You alright?"

"Yeah," I nod, swallowing tightly.

"Can we see her?" I ask the doctor.

He hesitates, growing uncomfortable.

"She, um," he no longer will meet our eyes. "She asked me to update you, but elected not to allow any visitors."

He finally glances at us.

"I'm sorry."

Looking at his watch, he looks back up.

"We're going to keep her for observation for the rest of shift. She should be able to be released tomorrow morning."

With one last look, the doctor backs away, disappearing down the hall.

Staring blankly after him, I shake my head darkly.

"I get why she's avoiding me," I eventually state, turning to face Laura. "But why avoid you?"

Laura's expression is saddened, the older woman trying to mask the emotions from her eyes.

"She doesn't want me to see her like this," she explains quietly. "She's always hid her pain, even as a child."

Laura's eyes meet mine.

"Now, as an adult, after everything that's happened," Laura voices tightly, "She hates the idea of being vulnerable around me."

"Vulnerable?" I question quietly. "She doesn't think…"

Laura watches me, suddenly getting my meaning.

"Oh, no no," she shakes her head emphatically. "She isn't worried about me hurting her, Catherine. She's worried about her hurting _me._"

She swallows.

"Same reason she's hidden her scars from me all these years, hid the abuse that she faced in those foster homes," Laura says. "She doesn't want me to know, to feel guilty."

My mind flashes back to one of the first days I arrived back in Vegas for the trial. When I gave Sara back the St. Gabriel medal.

I realize with new clarity that she didn't put it on because at that time her mother had already begun staying with her.

She didn't want her mom to see her wearing the item her father likely wore up until the day he died.

She didn't want to rub his death in her mother's face.

Sara's actions are kind, considerate, selfless. But, they also concern me.

Sara's relationship with her mother is clearly in its early developing stages. But, I'm concerned that Sara has been trying to make things easier on her mother, without taking the time to truly deal with how having her mother here has affected _her_. It has to be difficult for the brunette having her mother under the same roof as her – especially since the last time they were living under the same roof her mother stabbed her father to death in their own home.

Sara's been very quiet about her relationship with her mom, and it worries me.

I want so badly for the two of them to develop a genuine adult relationship with one another. But, that can't happen if Sara keeps hiding her feelings, her emotions, hiding everything 'negative' about her past with her mother. If she keeps pretending like those things didn't happen, she and her mother will never be able to move on from them.

Looking over at Laura, the exhaustion on her face that mirrors my own, I gently take her arm.

"Come on," I call gently. "I'll take you home, and we can come together to get Sara in the morning."

Laura takes a deep breath, nodding quietly.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

"_Doubt is not a pleasant mental state, but certainty is a ridiculous one." _

_Voltaire_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Alright, one step down," I gently state, guiding Sara carefully to my car parked along the hospital entrance.

Getting her situated, I move around to the driver side.

Sara's been quiet since her release from the hospital, not saying much as she signed the necessary paperwork. Seeing me waiting for her at the desk, she barely made eye contact, her gaze avoiding my own.

Now, seeing that we're passing by her neighborhood, Sara for the first time speaks up.

"Catherine…"

"Your mom isn't home," I tell her. "She had to go to one of the court's random welfare checks. They contacted her this morning telling her she needed to show up for a drug screening and evaluation, be sure she's being compliant with the terms of her release."

Sara watches me.

"She wanted to be here, Sara, but since she couldn't, she asked if I would look after you until she got back."

Sara's expression is tight.

"Like I said before," she says quietly. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Sara," I tell her bluntly. "You scared the shit out of me yesterday. Not to mention the fact you elected to drink alcohol while on seizure medication." I turn to face her briefly as we stop at a red light. "So forgive me if I happen to agree with your mother on this one."

Sara turns away to face out the window.

"You seem to be agreeing with my mother about a lot lately," she mutters.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sara shakes her head.

"Nothing."

"Sara."

"No," the brunette takes in a deep breath. "Forget it."

Rubbing her temples, she closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly. "I'm just…"

"Experiencing the world's worst hangover?" I offer. "Alcohol, two seizures, IV drugs used to stop said seizures…"

Sara meets my eyes briefly before turning away with a ghost of a smile.

"Something like that."

Seeing the street I'm turning onto, the smile drops from Sara's face.

"She's not home," I tell her, making my way down the street to my drive.

Looking over at me, Sara seems to debate within herself whether to believe me.

Ultimately, she stays quiet, but looks anything but relaxed.

Stopping the car, I move around to take Sara's arm as she unsteadily gets out of the vehicle.

"I'm okay," Sara tells me.

I don't quite believe her, but I honor her wishes and let go of her, standing closely behind her as she walks somewhat shakily to the front door.

Holding onto the door frame for support, she waits quietly for me to unlock it and head inside.

Hesitating in the threshold after we enter, Sara watches me as I place my keys on the counter.

"Alright, young lady," I call. "You're going to use my bed to get some decent rest."

I can already see the protests in Sara's eyes before her mouth even opens.

"I have to get to work," Sara shakes her head. "Shift starts in just over an hour."

I look at her with raised brows.

"I'm not even going to touch the fact that you somehow think you're capable of going to work right now, one look in the mirror will clear that issue right up for you."

Sara's expression darkens.

"You look like hell, Sara," I breathe out a sigh. "I'm sorry, but you can barely even keep yourself standing right now."

Moving slightly closer, I keep my gaze firm.

"And, I already called DB this morning, let him know you wouldn't be able to come in.

Sara's eyes widen.

"Catherine…"

"I'm sorry," I offer. "I know you asked me to keep the last seizure from him, but I couldn't this time."

I fix her gaze in mine.

"He needed to know, Sara."

She swallows tightly.

"I didn't tell him anything about the drinking," I offer as a compromise. "Just the seizures."

Sara's jaw is tight, but she knows damn well that she doesn't have much room to argue here. In fact, she's more than aware of how lucky she is I elected not to disclose her drinking. Her drinking on CSI's property, no less.

"Come on," I usher her.

Reluctantly, Sara pushes away from the wall, making her way towards my bedroom.

"I don't want to take up your bed," she says quietly.

"Oh," I nod, "You'd rather take my mother's, then?"

Sara immediately shakes her head.

"Yours is fine."

Laughing, I escort her into my room, pulling down the covers on the bed. I'd offer her something to wear for pajamas, but the scrub pants and undershirt Hannah managed to find for her are probably more comfortable than anything I have here.

Laying herself down, Sara's expression looks a mix between exhausted, worried, and frustrated.

Reaching forward, I gently move some of the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

She flinches at my touch, causing me to swallow tightly against the emotions her reaction brings up within me.

"I'll, uh, be in the other room if you need me," I state quietly.

"Catherine," Sara's voice stops me near the door.

"I'm sorry," she offers.

I'm not sure what exactly it is she's sorry for, but I nod solemnly.

"Goodnight, Sar."

* * *

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

I hear my mother's voice before I see her, instantly jumping up from the couch, knocking over the book that was in my lap.

I don't know how this happened, how or when I fell asleep…

Glancing quickly the clock, I note it's barely been an hour since we got home.

"What are you doing here?!" I question, trying to keep my voice down.

"This is my home!" my mother responds, not trying to censor her own volume levels in any way.

"Please, mother," I plead. "Lower your voice!"

"Why?" she questions darkly, volume as high as ever. "So that girl in there can continue to sleep in my home, in my daughter's bed?!"

"That girl," a hoarse voice calls from behind us. "Was just leaving."

"Sara…" I call, noting how she looks even paler than when she laid down. In fact, she looks absolutely terrible.

"It's fine," Sara offers, sending me a quick supportive look before she glances around.

"It's not fine," I counter, watching her as she tries to find where I put her keys and phone.

"If the girl wants to leave," my mother bites. "Let her leave, Cathy. Why argue with her?"

"Because 'the girl' just got out of the hospital this morning," I answer sternly, seeing the slight surprise pass through my mother's expression.

"Well," my mother quickly recovers. "She's a grown woman, I'm sure she doesn't need you coddling her."

I almost laugh, as this is probably the only thing my mother has ever said that she and Sara would agree upon.

"It's fine, Catherine," Sara offers again. "I just need to find my keys…"

"Perfect, let me help you," my mother quickly jumps in, expression anything but kind.

Noticing them where I set them on the couch, my mother eagerly grabs Sara's belongings.

"Here you…"

My mother's voice trails off, silence following.

Furrowing my brows, I lift my defeated expression to look at my mom.

Seeing her eyes slightly wide, my mother is all but frozen in place.

"Sara…"

My mom's use of Sara's name has my eyes darting quickly to the brunette.

My mother almost never calls Sara by her name, always 'Miss Sidle' or, as evidence today, 'that girl.'

Taking in the scene before me, I myself am frozen for a second before I quickly jump into action.

"Mother, grab a towel!"

This time, my shocked mother only hesitates briefly before doing as I ask.

Reaching Sara's side, I hold the back of her head firmly, tilting it upward the same time I place my hand over hers.

"Lean back," I instruct her, feeling the blood from her nose already starting to reach my fingers.

Sara works to keep her head back, trying to breathe through the blood.

Feeling my mother step up beside me, I remove my hand from Sara's face quickly to grab the towel in my mother's grip.

"Let go," I instruct Sara, her own bloody hand still clutched over her nose.

Hesitating, Sara's eyes meet mine.

"I don't care about the blood Sara, you're worth more to me than this fucking towel."

Sara hesitates a moment further, eventually pulling her hand away. Quickly, I replace her hand with the dish towel.

"Keep your head back," I instruct her again, using my hand gripping the back of her head to pull back gently on her dark hair.

"Breathe slowly through your mouth," I offer softly, feeling her start to struggle against the blood.

"What can I do?" my mom asks quietly near my side.

"Help me get her seated in the kitchen," I state. "She's too tall to keep my grip firm at this angle."

Wordlessly, my mother makes her way to the kitchen, pulling out a chair before returning to place her hand at Sara's hip, moving the brunette in the direction of the chair.

Sara's body stiffens at my mother's contact, but she allows herself to be led, not really having much choice at this point.

Lowering her down into the chair, I stand over her, better able at this angle to keep her head back.

"Breathe slowly," I instruct gently, feeling her start to cough.

Trying to comply, Sara takes in shallow, raspy breaths.

"Mother, get another towel," I state quickly, feeling Sara losing the battle and knowing instinctively what's coming next.

Sure enough, Sara starts to cough against the blood now trailing down her throat.

"I'm going to reverse our positions," I tell my mom. "I'm going to need you to keep that towel under her and help me keep her head down."

My mother nods, her wide eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to Sara.

Quickly, I move Sara's head from up towards the ceiling to down, lowering her head down until she's leaning forward, head close to her knees.

The brunette coughing violently, my mother sees Sara's struggle and moves in to hold the towel by Sara's mouth as she starts to cough up the blood from her throat.

Using her other hand, my mom helps me keep Sara's head down, moving her hand to the back of the brunette's neck.

"You're okay," I tell Sara gently. "Keep taking slow breaths, sweetheart."

Holding Sara tightly, my mother and I both wait until we feel her breathing even out.

Then, we wait awhile longer.

"I'm going to pull the towel away and check to see if your nose is still bleeding," I warn Sara. "Do you think you can sit up straight?"

Sara nods against my hand.

"Alright," I state. "On three."

Moving Sara upright so she's sitting up straight, I watch the wave of pain pass through her eyes at the movement, Sara's hands already clenching at her side.

I don't dare ask my mother to try to keep Sara's hands away from her side, knowing the brunette well enough to know she'd fight my mother's restraint to the point of disaster.

Gently moving the towel away, I see the blood now slowly trickling down Sara's face.

Replacing the towel, I let out a nervous breath.

"I think it's slowed," I state. "A couple more minutes and it should stop."

Sara nods, eyes hesitantly meeting mine.

"Don't," I caution her. "Don't you dare apologize for this, Sara."

I feel Sara swallow, her eyes leaving mine to place themselves somewhere near the floor.

"I mean it, Sidle."

Waiting a few more moments, I pull the towel from Sara's face.

Seeing no fresh blood making its way from Sara's nose, I pull back.

"I think we're good," I inform her.

Nodding, Sara moves to stand.

"Woah, there," my mom steps in. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

Sara turns her hesitant gaze to my mom's.

"If you think you're leaving here looking like that," my mom gestures to the brunette's blood spattered body. "You've got another thing coming."

Sara looks away.

"Cathy, help Sara to my shower."

When I hesitate, my mom claps her hands.

"Come on now, Cathy," she shakes her head with wide eyes. "You just going to leave her sitting there covered in her own blood?"

Hesitating only a moment more at my mother's rare tolerance of Sara, I help Sara stand.

"Slow," I warn her, feeling her body start to shake.

"I'll be in with some clothes for her to wear," my mother says behind us as we move slowly through the house.

* * *

"Don't make me manhandle you."

Sara's brows rise, sending me a look.

"Come on, Sara," I cross my arms over my chest. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"You've seen woman parts before," Sara agrees in a hoarse voice. "But not _these_ woman parts."

I snort. "Something special about your woman parts, Sara?"

Sara blushes slightly before turning away.

"Come on, Sar," I call out softly, taking a chance as I reach out to gently turn her face back to mine. "I can't just sit here watching you struggle to even keep yourself standing, let alone undress and shower yourself."

I take a gentle breath.

"I promise to look as little as possible."

Sara swallows, expression looking like she wishes the bathroom floor would consume her.

Finally, she sighs. "I really don't have a choice, do I?"

"Sure you do," I tell her. "Me or my mother."

Sara stiffens, eyes wide.

Hesitating a moment more, she eventually pulls her hands away from her side, moving to take hold of the hem of her shirt and pull upwards.

Taking that as my cue, I help her out of her t-shirt.

Then, helping her stay upright, I gently lower the scrub pants from her hips, moving them down to her ankles and helping her step out of them.

Turning around, Sara puts her back to me as she moves to remove her undergarments.

I keep true to my word, trying to look as little as possible, but it's damn trying on my self-restraint. But, this is a moment of necessity, not choice, on the brunette's part, and I need to be respectful of that.

Placing my hands gently on her shoulders, I feel her flinch.

"Sorry," I whisper. "Just wanted to help you into the shower."

She takes a steadying breath, nodding.

"I'm sorry," she offers to me.

Reaching around her to turn on the water, I wait until the temperature is comfortable before returning my hands to her to help guide her into the shower.

"There's a hand rail to your right," I state, noting how unsteady she is.

"Thanks," her quiet voice reaches me.

Helping Sara reach the soap, I let her do most of the work, keeping myself stationed behind her in case she needs me.

As she starts to shampoo her hair, I can't help but study the tattoos on Sara's back. The one near the base of her neck is what I recognize as an infinity symbol, with an alpha and omega symbol depicted in each of the open spaces in the infinity symbol.

Down lower, the one located along the lower side of her back, is a bit larger. It's what looks like a crescent moon, with text written across it in the shape of an 'h' with a cross on the top. I feel like I've seen that symbol before, but I just can't place it.

"Catherine…"

My mother's voice causes both me and Sara to jerk in surprise. Instantly, I stop staring at Sara's tattoos while Sara moves to quickly cover herself despite her back already being to the room.

"My God…"

"Mother," I quickly interject, seeing my mom's wide eyes, her shocked expression at the sight of Sara's back.

I know for a fact it's not the tattoos that have her attention.

"Thanks," I call, taking the offered clothing in her hands. "Come on, let's let Sara finish up."

Guiding her out of the room, I pray that Sara can keep herself upright and out of harm until I reenter.

"Cathy…" my mom whispers in disbelief when we're alone. "Her back…"

"I know," I tell her quietly.

"She…"

My mom shakes her head.

"She was abused, Cathy!"

I swallow.

"I know."

My mom's eyes study my own, her expression a mixture of thoughts that I cannot quite separate from one another.

"She…who…"

I lower my head, taking a deep breath to keep my own emotions at bay.

"Sara was in foster care as a kid."

My mother stiffens, catching the meaning behind my words.

"Cathy…this is…this is too much…"

I shake my head.

"This is Sara, mom."

My quiet words reach my mother, her expression studying my own.

"This is Sara." I swallow tightly, holding firm. "This is the woman that I love."

* * *

"Your mom's been really quiet," Sara states hesitantly, nervously eying the front door as she takes another sip of tea out on my porch.

"I think she's a bit overloaded from the events of the day," I answer honestly.

My mom got very, _very _quiet after I confessed my feelings about Sara to her. She stared at me in shock for a bit before saying something too quietly for me to hear and walking away.

I haven't really seen her since. She disappeared somewhere into the back part of the house.

"I know you don't want me to apologize," Sara says quietly. "But I'm really sorry about all this."

Sara swallows tightly, tugging anxiously on the shirt sleeves that are much too short for her arms. I try not to smile at the sight of Sara's long limbs trying to fit into my clothing.

"You'd do the same for me."

My words cause Sara to look over at me, clearly not expecting that response.

Eventually, she nods, looking back out into the yard beyond my porch.

"Yes I would."

I smile, reaching out to take Sara's hand.

When she pulls away at the contact, I remember why Sara and I are sitting here in the first place.

Ben. My former fiancé that I hid from her. The drinking. The seizures.

I remember all of the reasons Sara and I aren't exactly on the best of terms right now.

The damage to our relationship that's been done in just the past twenty four hours.

"Sara…"

"You don't have to wait with me," Sara offers, voice quiet. "My mom will be here any minute."

"Sara…"

Standing stiffly, Sara gets her balance before moving slightly away from me to stand near the porch rail.

"Don't do this, Catherine."

"Do what?" I question with a shake of my head. "Care about you?"

"Waste time on me," the brunette counters, eyes flashing to mine.

"I told you Sara, I chose you."

Sara swallows.

"And what if I don't, Catherine?"

Her words are barely a whisper.

"What if I don't choose you back?"

"Then it's going to be one hell of a lonely life for me."

Sara's eyes furrow, dark expression puzzled.

"You don't get to try to force me to go back to Ben," I tell her clearly. "It doesn't work that way."

I stand.

"Whether you decide to let me in or not, Sara, I'm not going to go back to Ben. It's not fair to him for me to be with him simply because the person I truly love won't let me love her."

I shake my head firmly.

"He's a good person who deserves better than to be treated as a consolation prize."

I fix my gaze on hers, moving to turn her jaw firmly back towards me when she tries to look away.

"He deserves a woman in his life who loves him as much as I love you."

Long, tense moments stretch between us, neither one of us moving, neither one of us backing down.

It could be seconds, minutes, hours that pass, Sara's intense hazel gaze focused into my own.

A soft, deliberate cough has us both startling, heads jerking towards the noise.

Laura is standing there atop the porch steps, her brows slightly raised.

Pulling my hand back, I take a step away from her daughter.

No one speaks, Laura eventually breaking the moment by looking Sara up and down.

"Hey," she offers softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

Sara's voice is so quiet I can barely hear her over the morning noises coming from my neighborhood.

Clearing her throat, Sara steps away from both of us.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to wait in the car."

Not pausing for a response, Sara descends the porch, walking purposefully towards the drive, disappearing a moment later.

Raising both her brows fully, Laura looks between me and the car.

"I uh, I guess I should follow the broody brunette," she says, reaching out to squeeze my arm in quiet support. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her."

Nodding numbly, I follow Laura's disappearing form, wondering how and when everything got so complex.

_When you decided to fall in love with the most complex person on the face of the planet,_ my mind supplies for me.

Sighing, I groan into the morning air.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Thank you as always to the reviewers, it's you guys who keep this story going. I appreciate you all. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 28

_"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future." _

_John F. Kennedy_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Jesus!"

I clutch my hand to my chest, heart damn near thundering out of my chest.

"Sara?" I question the brunette, trying to focus enough in the darkness to make out the form sitting on porch.

Standing, she moves out of the shadows towards me.

"Sorry," she offers, though there's a slight smirk on her face which makes me doubt the full sincerity of her apology.

"You alright?" I ask, looking around. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm fine," she answers quickly. "I just…I actually wanted to talk with you about something."

I search her expression for a clue as to what's on the private girl's mind, but as usual I don't get much.

"Okay."

I move to sit, but she shakes her head.

"You mind if we take a walk instead?" she questions.

I don't know if it's a desire for privacy that has the brunette asking or something else. Regardless, it's a beautiful night and I'm more than happy to spend it taking a walk with Sara.

"Sure," I answer, gesturing towards the drive.

Leading the way, Sara makes her way towards the street. The neighborhood is relatively private, with most people already in their homes for the night.

We walk a couple blocks before Sara finally lets out a breath.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said," she starts, keeping her eyes ahead of her.

"Okay…" I eventually state when she doesn't continue.

"It's been really hard to figure out what the right thing to do here is, Catherine," she confesses quietly.

Eyes taking in the landscape, she finally briefly meets my eyes before returning them to the sidewalk.

"Do you really think being with me is what you want?"

"No," I tell her, shaking my head. "I _know_ it's what I want."

Sara goes quiet for awhile, her dark features even harder to read that usual.

"Catherine," she eventually whispers. "I just want you to be happy."

Drawing our walking to a stop, I reach out and gently take her arm to turn her towards me.

"Sara, what do _you _want?"

Sara's eyes have a hard time meeting mine, but she works to keep them there.

"I…" she swallows tightly. "I want to be with you, Catherine."

I feel my heartbeat increase the same time she shakes her head.

"I just feel like that's so selfish of me."

"Why, honey?" I question, lifting her chin to bring her eyes back to mine.

"Because look at me," she gets out. "I'm a mess, Catherine. And I don't know if I'll ever truly be better."

Sara's expression is tense, serious.

"I don't want to start a life with you if this is all it's ever going to be for you."

I know Sara hates the current state of affairs, her current health issues being a big part of that. Sara's always hated being a burden, being anything but fully independent and in control.

The current situation the brunette is in doesn't allow her any of those.

The one thing she's wrong about, though, is being a burden.

Sara Sidle could never be a burden to anyone.

"I love you, Sara," I state clearly, making sure she's looking at me. "That doesn't change no matter how sick you ever get, how many seizures you ever have, how long it takes you to heal. Those things have nothing to do with the person you are."

Sara turns.

"No," I grab her before she can move away. "I mean it, Sara."

Sara lowers her head, and I can feel the emotions radiating through her frame.

I wait her out, not daring to move or let her move either.

"Okay."

The whispered word drifts through to cool night to reach me.

Sara looks up, swallowing tightly.

"Okay," she says. "It's selfish as hell, but I want to give this a shot."

I wait a moment for my ears to catch up with my brain. Then, a smile pulls against my lips until I can no longer hold it back.

Nodding, I reach out, taking both her hands in mine and giving them a squeeze.

Searching my eyes, Sara hesitates a moment before leaning down and placing a kiss along my temple.

"I don't want you worrying about me, though," she says quietly, voice tickling the hairs near my ear.

Pulling back, her eyes are serious.

"If this is going to work, Catherine, I can't feel like you're taking care of me or worrying about this seizure nonsense."

I don't know of anyone else who would sum up a serious seizure disorder as 'this seizure nonsense.'

"Sara," I state gently but firmly. "I'm going to care about you and worry about you no matter what's going on in your life. Whether you're completely healthy or not."

I reclaim her hands.

"That's just part of loving someone, sweetheart."

"I don't think I'm going to like that part too much," she mutters, a bemused smirk pulling at her lips.

"Well, you're going to have to just deal with it," I inform her with a smile of my own.

Leaning up, I kiss her softly.

I don't think I could be any happier that I am right here in this moment.

* * *

"How'd it go?" the brunette greets me, handing me a cup of coffee and sitting along the break room table.

Joining her, I tap my fingers along the edge of the coffee mug.

"Good, I think."

"You think?"

"DB felt pretty confident about getting me a spot back on the team," I explain. "But apparently there may be some issues regarding staffing limits."

Sara searches my expression.

"But…" the brunette leads, knowing there's more I'm not saying.

"But right now night shift is down a CSI in the field," I supply, watching Sara's expression closely.

She doesn't give much away, but the flash of frustration in her gaze is enough for me to guess her feelings.

"Sara, I'm sorry."

"No," she counters, pulling back to hold her coffee in her hands. "It's valid."

"I'm not taking your spot," I state sternly. "That's not even in question. I'm simply moving into that spot to fill in right now."

I keep my gaze firm.

"Something permanent is going to be figured out when you're ready to get back into the field," I state. "Which I'm sure will be soon."

Sara swallows.

"Right," she answers quietly.

Then, steeling herself, she forces in a calming breath.

"Well," she says quietly but sincerely. "I'm glad you're back at CSI."

I nod, leaning across the table to chance a quick kiss with Sara before sitting down with a groan.

"Me too," I tell her, "But now that means I have to tell the FBI."

"Don't bother."

A male voice near the doorway draws Sara and my heads whipping around.

Ben is standing there with a look on his face best described as a mixture of shock, hurt, and disbelief.

"Consider the FBI notified of your leaving."

* * *

"Ben!" I yell, not caring how many unwanted eyes I'm drawing to us. "Stop!"

Whirling around, Ben pauses near the lab door.

"Why?" he questions, expression colored with defeat. "I came here to try to talk to you, to work things out. But there's clearly nothing more that needs to be said, Cat. I think your actions spoke loud enough for the both of us back there."

"That's…"

I let out a tight breath.

"That's new."

"Oh," he shrugs. "So I'm supposed to feel better knowing my fiancé didn't screw around on me while we were engaged? While she was living with the same person I just walked in on her kissing?"

He laughs. "That she had the decency to wait, what, a couple _days_ to move on from our relationship?"

His voice is raised, drawing more curious onlookers to peek out from their doorways.

"It's not like that," I tell him, keeping my voice low.

"Of course it isn't," Ben advances slightly. "Of course it isn't that you just used me, let me play house with you for a while before tossing me out when the next piece of tail became available."

His words are hurtful, and not at all like the Ben I knew in Washington. But, I have to try to place myself in his position, what I would be thinking if I were him.

Probably the same things.

"I love her, Ben," I tell him honestly, not giving a shit who overhears me. "This isn't some 'piece of tail' or a phase. This is the person I love, the person it took me way too long to realize how I felt about."

He takes this in, eyes colored with hurt and anger.

"Well," he breathes out. "That's just great."

He steps back.

"Good to know I never stood a chance. Apparently I had the wrong parts. Or the wrong something."

Shaking his head, he raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm done, Cat," he gets out.

Looking past me, his expression turns stern.

"You better take care of her," he warns tightly. "You better make sure this is all worth it, worth ending a family."

"I will," Sara answers without hesitation, for the first time stepping around to place herself in my line of sight.

Ben looks between us, letting out one final breath before turning.

"Good luck, Cat," he offers over his shoulder, pushing through the lab doors and disappearing from sight.

* * *

"You alright?" Sara asks softly, hand reaching over to gently place itself on my arm.

"Yeah," I breathe out.

"I feel bad for hurting him," I tell her honestly. "But it feels good to have closure."

I shake my head. "Just like how I didn't want you to find out about him the way you did, I guess I had hoped he wouldn't find out about you the way he did."

Sara nods quietly, squeezing my arm.

"I'm sorry," she offers.

"No," I lace my fingers through hers. "Don't think for a moment I regret my decision, Sara," I tell her sincerely. "It's you…it's always _been _you."

Sara takes in a deep, steadying breath before nodding gently.

Looking out the car window, Sara looks back at me.

"You want me to stay for a bit?"

I smile, "My mother could be inside."

Sara laughs lightly. "I consider it a challenge I'm willing to accept."

I smile back.

"Can we just stay here like this for a while instead?" I question.

Sara nods, lifting her armrest to pull me gently to her.

Encircling her arms around me, she holds me close.

In her embrace I feel safe, secure, cared for.

Resting her head atop mine, Sara sits with me in silence, her fingers gently moving up and down my arm in calming motions.

Sitting together in the Tahoe, I close my eyes.

Today, I closed the door to one life.

Today, Sara put her fears aside to open the door to another.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys continue to amaze me. As to the question of more chapters, yes, there will be more. How many more? Not entirely sure to be honest, I have a general idea of events to come, but we'll have to see where the story takes us. May be a few chapters short of 'several thousand more', though - sorry webber82 ;) As for the questions of happy loving versus drama/twists/etc...I guess we will also have to see ;) Thanks everyone for sharing your thoughts with me, hope you are all doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 29

"_Hope is the struggle of the soul, breaking loose from what is perishable, and attesting her eternity." _

_Herman Melville_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"So, here are all the rest of the reports from the Jefferson case."

"Thanks, Sara," I smile up at the brunette, taking my glasses off and placing them down on my desk with a sigh.

"How's it feel?" Sara questions, gesturing to my old desk, my old office.

"In some ways like I never left," I tell her. "But in others like it's been ages."

"A lot's happened."

I look up into her hazel eyes.

"Yes, it has."

Standing slowly, I make my way towards the tall brunette.

Wordlessly, I reach out, placing my hands gently along her hips. At the contact, I see the confusion, the concern crossing Sara's features.

"Catherine…?" she whispers questioningly.

Raising my hands slowly, I move them further up her sides.

Her breathing hitches, her jaw set tightly to try to keep herself steady.

My hands travel further, coming to rest along the sides of her face, fingers entangled in dark, soft hair.

"Cath…" she tries again, voice so quiet I barely make it out.

Leaning in, I place my lips against her own.

I feel her body stiffen before involuntarily responding to the kiss. Her hands come to gently rest near my lower back, her lips soft against my own.

Pulling back slightly for air, Sara's eyes are closed, her breathing shallow.

"Catherine…"

"Shh," I silence her, raising a finger to gently place it across her lips.

Her eyes open at the contact, her gaze studying my own.

"We can't…here…" she breathes out around my finger.

I can feel her hands, her body fighting to not give into the temptations that I myself am fighting having her so close.

Keeping my grip on her firm, I move us back slowly until Sara's back connects with my office door. Then, pushing a bit more forcefully, we both fall back until the door slams shut.

"Problem solved," I tell her quietly.

Moving my finger slightly, I use it to trace her lips, her mouth. Sara's gaze watches me the whole time, her features intense.

The last of the resistance draining from her, she leans forward to recapture my lips with hers.

This time, we aren't so gentle.

Tongues dueling together, our hands search for the most exposed skin we can find, my own traveling across Sara's neck while hers find their way under my shirt to place themselves along my back.

The coldness of her hands contrasts sharply with the warmth of her kiss, making me gasp against the conflicting sensations.

Pushing her firmly against the door, I keep her there, placing my legs between hers, leaning into her hips with my own.

Sara's breathing catches, the brunette moving her hands further up my back, using my body as leverage to deepen our kiss.

Moving my own hands, I lower them from her face to her shoulders, then down further to her elbows.

Griping them firmly, I pull her arms from my back, my lips not leaving hers as I move further down her arms to entwine our fingers together.

She struggles to touch me, her body pressing against mine.

Tightening my grip on her hands, I keep them captured in my own, my tongue moving to trace its way across Sara's bottom lip.

Leaning in, I press the rest of our bodies together, placing myself flush against her the same time I push back with my hands, pinning her own to the door near her head.

I think Sara stops breathing all together.

Deepening our kiss, both of us are lost in the moment, in the sensations of our bodies so intimately arranged.

"Cath…" Sara struggles to get out, her body and her words sending conflicting messages as even now she's fighting to take over dominance, her hips pressing into mine.

Fighting her back, I keep her pinned solidly to the door.

Moving my head back slowly, I see her eyes intently watching mine, both our breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

Sara's gaze holds so much emotion – so much desire.

But, the one thing I also recognize there in surprise is hesitance, fear.

"Sara?" I question.

For the first time, I register the position of our bodies, Sara's hands restrained by mine near her head.

Immediately, my mind flashes back to a time, only months ago, when Sara's hands were restrained above her head for an entirely different reason.

"Oh my God," immediately pull back from her, removing all contact.

My horrified gaze meets hers.

"Sara…I'm so sorry…" I choke out. "I didn't realize…"

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"It's not that, Cath," Sara says quietly.

But, the fact that she knew exactly where my thoughts had gone lets me know it was, at least a little bit, _that_.

She moves towards me, reaching out gently to raise my chin.

"It's not that," Sara says more confidently.

Looking at me, she swallows.

"I trust you, Catherine," her quiet voice tells me.

I swallow as well, trying to control all the emotions, all the feelings moving through me.

"Then what?" I keep my eyes on hers, not knowing how much I believe her regarding her declaration of trust, but willing to hear her out.

"I just…" her voice trails off. "I just feel like maybe we're moving a little quickly."

She looks almost embarrassed at her words, her hand leaving my chin.

I keep watching her, trying to figure out what she's trying to tell me.

"I feel like, despite working together and everything we've been through, that we still don't really know each other all that well," Sara says, eyes hesitant, afraid she's going to hurt me by what she's saying. "I don't want to rush into things…I want to…before we…"

She shakes her head, rubbing her temples.

"God," she gets out. "I can't believe I'm saying this."

Moving forward, I take her hands in mine, gently this time.

"You want to be sure we know each other, trust each other, emotionally, before we get too far physically."

She studies me in surprise before nodding slowly.

"Yes."

I take in her request, somewhat surprised by the brunette's words. But, I at least know Sara well enough to know she isn't the type to jump into bed with someone. That she cares about people, deeply, and needs to have some level of trust, of commitment there for her to feel comfortable.

"Okay," I tell her with a smile pulling at my lips. "I think I can do that."

"You sure?" she questions, self-doubt coloring her eyes. "I'm sorry…I just…"

"Sara," I call out, stopping her. "We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with."

She takes a deep breath in, trying to relax.

"But," I narrow my eyes. "Please tell me at least kissing is okay."

Sara laughs lightly.

Leaning in, she gently places her lips against mine.

"Kissing is definitely okay," she whispers against my mouth before moving back in to deepen the kiss.

* * *

"There something you want to tell me?"

I glance over at DB, the older man keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

"What do you mean?" I casually sip my coffee.

"Come on, Catherine," he states. "You know what I'm asking."

I watch the scenery move by our windows as we make our way to our scene. My first scene back as a CSI in Vegas.

"Please spell it out for me," I request. "Hate to say something you weren't wanting to hear."

DB sends me a look before rolling his eyes.

"You and Sara," he states clearly, getting serious. "Is there something going on there that I should know about?"

I'm quiet, causing him to continue.

"Apparently there was quite a scene the other day in the hall…something about you and a fiancé? Declarations of love?"

I snort, rolling my own eyes before I get serious.

"Sara and I are…" I trail off. "I don't know what we are, exactly. But we are pursuing a relationship, yes."

There's no hesitation, no secrecy in my voice.

"And I'm not willing to give that up, for anything."

DB takes in my words, eventually nodding slowly as we pull down another road.

"You can't be her supervisor, you can't fill out any of her evaluations."

"Done."

"You never let your relationship come between your abilities to do your job."

He glances over as we stop at a light.

"One screw up, Catherine, and you two are on separate shifts."

He shakes his head.

"I'm serious."

"Done," I answer back, just as serious.

Sara and I are both professionals. Despite the scene earlier in my office, we both know how to be adults and prioritize our work versus private lives.

"All that aside," DB's expression softens as he accelerates. "Congratulations."

I smile back, accepting his sentiment.

"There's actually something I wanted to run by you, if you don't mind."

He quirks his brows.

"Okay."

"I wanted to discuss Sara getting back into the field," I breathe out. "She's going nuts, Russell."

"I know," he nods. "And I'm sympathetic to that, Catherine. But you know the rules as well as I do. Thirty days, seizure free."

"You're right, I know the rules as well as you do. And we both know there's a loophole."

His expression is tight, stern.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Not after everything she's already been through. I'd hate to get her hopes up only to have things not work out."

"I don't see it as anything other than giving her a fighting shot, Russell," I counter. "And if there's one thing we both know about Sara, it's that she'd want the chance to fight for her life back."

DB goes quiet, mind busy considering my proposition, the implications, the possible outcomes.

"If she agrees-"

"She will."

"If she agrees," DB repeats purposefully, "Then I want to be there when it gets discussed with her doctors. Every word I'm going to hear. And, then, the three of us are going to sit down and decide together whether it's a workable option."

I consider his proposition.

It only takes me a few seconds.

"Deal."

* * *

Smiling, I take Sara's hand in mine.

"You didn't have to drive me home," I tell her. "And you didn't have to walk me to the door."

"I'm polite," Sara shrugs with a smile of her own. "Get over it."

As we reach my front door, I pull both her hands into mine.

"Sweetheart, there's actually something I wanted to talk with you about."

Sara's expression tenses, looking at me with concern.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I wave her off. "It's actually something about you."

Sara quirks a brow.

"I talked with DB today about getting you back into the field."

Sara narrows her eyes, but stays silent.

"I've been doing a lot of reading and thinking about the ways the rules are set up, and I think there's a way around the thirty day issue."

Sara studies me.

"Why didn't you say something to me?"

"I wanted to run it by DB first," I answer honestly. "Didn't want to bring it up to you if it wasn't something he'd even allow considering."

"What is it?" Sara questions, and I know she's skeptical, hesitant to get her hopes up.

"It's something that Hannah can explain much better than I can," I answer. "She agreed to discuss it with Doctor Roth and meet with us in the morning."

"Us?"

"You, me, and DB."

Sara hesitates, having always been a private person, never discussing anything regarding her health with much of anyone.

"It was part of DB's conditions," I tell her. "That he be there to hear what your doctors had to say before deciding with us whether this is something we can be doing."

"I…"

Sara trails off, shaking her head.

"I don't know what to say, Catherine."

"I'm not trying to impose," I squeeze her hands. "But if there's a way to get your life back, I'm damn well going to fight with you to achieve that."

Sara watches my expression before nodding.

"You know I'll do it," she says quietly. "You knew I would before you even asked."

I smile, "Yes I did."

Sara takes a deep, calming breath.

"I'll pick you up in the morning. DB will meet us there."

Sara nods, eyes looking heavy with thoughts.

"Thanks," she gets out, clearing her throat and steadying herself.

I nod, leaning forward to kiss her softly.

Front door opening not a minute later, we pull away.

"Oh," my mother states in surprise, keys in hand. "I didn't know anyone was out here."

"Sorry," I offer the same time Sara blushes.

"Sara," my mom acknowledges the brunette with a curt not.

"Ms. Flynn," Sara returns politely.

It's not exactly a warm exchange, but it's the best one they've had so far.

Progress, at least.

"If you're done kissing my daughter in public for all the world to see, I'd appreciate it if you'd move your car out of my way."

Sara tries to keep the smirk from her face.

"Of course, ma'am."

Sending me a knowing smile, the brunette backs away down the porch.

"See you tomorrow," I call to her.

She nods and sends me a quick wave, getting in her car and backing down the drive.

I sigh, hopeful for the future, but also hoping I haven't just made a huge mistake.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks to the reviewers, you guys make my day.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CHAPTER 30

"_When a resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, the world, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to find it comes off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away the timid adventurers." _

_Ralph Waldo Emerson_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Sara takes one last swallow from her coffee before getting out of the car.

Leading the way to the hospital doors, she lets me enter before her, moving with me to the front desk.

She's nervous.

She greeted me this morning with the same gentle smile she always does, making some small talk with me as we drove towards Desert Palm, but I know her enough to recognize when she's nervous.

For one, she was quiet. Small talk aside, she was quieter than she usually is, which says a lot.

The second major tipoff is that she looks great, light jeans combined with a form fitting dark grey sweater, but she also looks tired. Like she didn't get much sleep last night after leaving my house.

Lastly, she keeps playing with the lighter in her pocket.

Checking in, Sara and I return to the waiting room and have a seat.

It's weird being here with Sara by my side, instead of in some back surgery or exam room while I wait out here to find out if she's okay.

"Your mom couldn't come?"

Sara looks over at my question, gaze confused.

"You didn't ask her?" I question.

Sara shakes her head quietly. "No."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but it makes me sad to think of how the brunette keeps trying to keep her mother out of these parts of her life.

Before I can contemplate further, DB enters the waiting room and Sara instinctively sits up straighter.

"Morning," he offers us.

"Hey," I great while Sara offers him a polite nod.

We wait in somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes more before we're called back.

* * *

Following a nurse down the hall, we enter a back exam room where I see Hannah waiting near the bed.

"Hey guys," she greets, eyes focusing almost immediately on Sara.

The brunette meets Hannah's eyes before looking away, hating everyone's focus being so intently placed on her.

"Alright," Hannah states, pulling out some chairs. "Sara, I'm going to have you sit on the bed, Catherine and Mr. Russell, if you don't mind sitting to the side."

We each take our places, Sara electing to lean against the bed versus sit on it.

Hannah thankfully doesn't push her.

"Sara, how much has Catherine told you about her idea?"

Sara swallows.

"She hasn't told me anything."

Hannah raises a brow before nodding. "Alright, I'll start from the beginning then."

Gazing at the brunette, Hannah places herself along the desk.

"I hear you've been banned from field work due to your seizures?"

Sara nods.

"Well, Catherine told us that in order for you to be in the field you have to be thirty days without a seizure. And we all know how much of a struggle it's been to get you to go even three days without a seizure, let alone thirty."

Sara's quiet, not commenting.

"Catherine also let us know that the rule at your office is technically written as being thirty days without a seizure, or having your condition able to be 'appropriately remedied in an effective, efficient manner'."

Sara's eyes narrow.

"Such as being diabetic but carrying insulin with you in case your blood sugar drops at a crime scene."

Sara watches Hannah, trying to figure out the meaning behind her words.

"We have a trial going here at the hospital involving seizure disorders and the use of a new treatment technique."

Hannah goes silent, trying to read Sara's body language.

Sara predictably gives away nothing, causing Hannah to continue

"We're studying whether seizure disorders can effectively be managed via the use of quick administration of benzodiazepines. We basically use something similar to an epi-pen filled with a benzodiazepine that a person can carry with them. That way, if they have a seizure, they can be injected with it and stop the seizure quickly and more effectively than having them either wait for the seizure to end on its own or come to a hospital to get the medication intravenously."

Hannah straightens, eyes plastered on Sara's.

"It hasn't been proven or approved, this is all still in trial."

Sara watches her.

"But it's been effective?" I question.

Hannah nods. "So far, yes. The results have been incredibly successful."

Moving slightly closer to the brunette, Hannah shakes her head. "But it's a trial, Sara, meaning there are risks to it. What works for other people may not work for everyone."

Sara doesn't comment, and we all know the brunette's feeling towards taking risks.

In fact, the way Hannah's staring her down right now makes me think the nurse is trying to scare some sense into the usually reckless brunette.

"What does the trial entail?" DB asks, his question serving to break some of the silent standoff.

"We basically enroll the person, get a health history from them. We give them a small dose of the study medication, which for us has been lorazepam, to be sure the patient isn't allergic. Then, if there are no negative reactions, we provide them with the injectors. We train their caregivers on how to administer them and they document every seizure, time to injection, time for the seizure to end, and so on."

"What if it doesn't work?" I ask, trying not to think about the negative, but keeping everything in perspective.

"Then we withdraw the patient from the study, noting the findings in our data. They return to solely traditional medical management."

Hannah looks us over.

"I want to be clear here," she states. "This isn't a cure for seizure disorders. This isn't a way to prevent seizures. This is simply a way of getting someone quick cessation of their seizures when they do occur so you minimize the risk for prolonged seizures and brain damage."

I nod, "But this would qualify as being 'effectively medically managed'," I state. "If it works, then it's no different than having a person who has to take insulin or a person who gets asthma attacks and carries an inhaler with them at scenes."

DB remains quiet, expression tense and thoughtful.

"I would need to see it in practice," he eventually says, voice tight.

"Well," Hannah steps in, "Before we release a study candidate, we provoke a seizure in the clinic, have their primary caregiver give the injection, and oversee the process in a controlled environment before sending them off on their own. So, you're welcome to observe."

Hannah turns, looking at Sara.

"With your permission, of course."

Sara's jaw is tight, the only one of us who's yet to say a single word.

"Sara?" I question, concerned. "You alright?"

Sara swallows, keeping her eyes on Hannah.

"Can I enroll?"

Hannah's gaze is equally as intense. "You need to read the waiver, but knowing what I do about your seizure history, you would be a candidate for the study, yes."

The tension in the room, particularly between the two headstrong women currently staring each other down is nearly suffocating.

"I think you should get the paperwork."

Hannah continues to watch Sara, moments passing before she finally nods, honoring Sara's request.

* * *

"Last time you had a seizure?"

Hannah pauses with her pen over the study intake form, waiting for Sara's answer.

"Sara," she calls, seeing the brunette's hesitance as clear as DB and I. "For the study to work, you need to be honest about this information," she states. "I cannot stress that enough."

"Yesterday morning."

My eyes, and I'm sure DB's, widen in surprise.

I saw Sara yesterday, all day in the office. Sure, she seemed a bit tired, but I had no idea…

Damn it, Sara.

Hannah makes note of this.

"How long did it last?"

Sara looks away.

"I don't know," she confesses. "I was alone."

I close my eyes, trying to contain my thundering heartbeat at the idea of Sara having a seizure alone, no one there to help her if…

Hannah writes this down before placing the clipboard on the desk.

"Alright," she calls. "Come over here."

Sara hesitates, and Hannah rolls her eyes.

"I'm not going to stab you, Sara, so stop looking at me like that."

Sara shakes her own head, quietly approaching Hannah.

"Hold out your arms."

Sara complies, Hannah doing a once over of the brunette, documenting any findings that could be relevant to the study.

"How've your ribs been?"

"Fine."

I shake my head.

"She's in a lot of pain," I contradict, drawing both Hannah and DB's eyes to me.

Sara looks tensely at the floor.

"Sara?"

"She reaches for her side a lot," I continue when Sara remains silent. "Clenches at her ribs when she moves quickly or is being overly physically active."

"We told you to come in if you were still in pain, Sara." Hannah watches the brunette who was previously staring her down, but is now looking anywhere but at her. "Did we not?"

Hannah sighs, taking a deep breath.

"Someday, Sara," Hannah breathes out quietly, "you're going to realize we're on your side."

Making notes on her clipboard, she places it back down on the desk.

"Alright," she states. "We need to get your vitals and then get you upstairs for x-rays."

Sara's eyes flash up to the nurse.

"Don't you dare look at me like that," Hannah says. "I'm not entering you into this study if you're still walking around with broken ribs."

Jaw tight, Sara sits, allowing Hannah to take her pulse and blood pressure.

She hesitates, however, when Hannah gestures to the scale.

I almost offer to leave as Sara slowly steps towards it, but the bigger part of me is desperate to know the number so I can get a better idea of Sara's weight situation.

I know it's bad. Anyone can tell that by just looking at her. But, I want to know how bad so I know how hard I need to be pushing to fix it.

Hannah looks at the displayed number, at Sara, then back at the number.

Taking a deep breath in, Hannah writes the number down, fixing Sara with a look.

"That needs to improve," she states tersely. "A lot."

"I know."

"No, Sara," Hannah shakes her head. "I don't think you do."

"I'm trying," Sara gets out through her tight jaw.

"Then try harder."

Hannah shakes her head. "Maybe if you weren't in so much damn pain you'd be a little more eager to eat something, yes?"

Sara turns away.

"Look, Sara," Hannah gets out, placing herself back in Sara's line of sight. "If nothing else, know that the medication in this trial is calibrated to someone's BMI. Low BMI means lower doses, lower chances of success, higher chances for complications."

Sara rubs her temples.

"I'm trying, Hannah," she gets out quietly. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

Hannah takes a calming breath, running a hand through her hair before reaching out to squeeze Sara's arm in a rare show of camaraderie.

"Come on," she calls. "Let's get you to x-ray."

Taking Sara out of the room, DB and I are left in silence, both of us too overwhelmed and too deeply entrenched in our own thoughts to even think about conversing with one another.

Glancing over, I hate myself for it, but I look at Sara's intake form.

Height = 5'10". Weight = 101 lbs.

BMI = 14.5.

Feeling nauseous, I wish I never looked.

* * *

"Doing okay?"

Sara rolls her eyes.

"Yes, just like the last five times you asked me."

Hannah narrows her own.

"You realize I'm not asking you for fun, right?" she questions. "That it's part of the study?"

Sara smirks.

"Sure it is."

"Good God," Hannah mutters. "How do you put up with her?" she asks me.

"Lots of meditation and scented candles."

Snorting, Hannah adjusts Sara's jeans, pulling the leg up a bit higher.

"One last shot," she says, glancing at her watch. "Then, if there's still no reaction, and none after you leave, you should be cleared for the study."

"What about the x-rays?" I ask.

Hannah hesitates, looking back to Sara.

"Go ahead and tell her," Sara rolls her eyes. "She'll force it out of us somehow anyway."

Hannah smiles. "Woman after my own heart," she says before getting serious. "Couple of cracks in three of the ribs on the left, one still healing compound fracture," she breathes out. "But no clean breaks."

"So it's safe?" I question. "Forgive me, but what you just listed sounds like a whole lot of bad."

"It's painful and not by any means good," Hannah answers. "But not medically risky in regards to the study."

"What about pain medications?" I ask. "Can't she still be taking those?"

Hannah snorts.

"You wanna take this one, Sara, or should I?"

Sara sighs, and Hannah continues.

"Stubborn Sidle still has them," Hannah tells me. "We gave her multiple refills."

Sara breathes out.

"Can't you just stab me in the leg with that last needle already?" she questions. "Get these 'harass the crap out of Sara' sessions over with?"

Hannah laughs lightly, "That, I can do."

Preparing the needle, she holds Sara's leg steady.

"Ready?"

"So glad I shaved my legs today."

Hannah tries to hide the smile from her face.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Inserting the needle, she watches Sara's vitals as she injects the medication.

Monitoring her for the required time, Hannah glances at her watch.

"Alright, ladies," she addresses us, DB having left to head out to a scene after giving strict instructions for us to meet with him at the lab after this part is over. "I think that does it for today. Tomorrow we show everyone how to use the pens, invoke a seizure, and see how it goes."

Pulling her jeans back in place, Sara stands.

"Shit," she gets out, grabbing for the bed.

"Slow," Hannah instructs, keeping a tight hold on Sara's hip. "Those meds may be low doses and you may not have had any adverse reaction," she states. "But they're still medication. Expect to feel a bit tired, dizzy."

She helps Sara as the brunette straightens up.

"If you feel any worse than this, if you start to feel like you're going to black out, if you throw up, anything," she says sternly. "You call us right away."

She fixes Sara's gaze with hers.

"Understood, Sara?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Turning to leave, Hannah takes Sara's arm.

"One last thing," she says, turning Sara back towards her. "I almost forgot."

Taking Sara's hand, she pulls the brunette's sleeve up gently.

Grabbing a silver metal bracelet from her scrub top, she holds it out.

"It's a medical alert bracelet," she explains. "You should've been wearing one of these already, but it's required for the study. Let's people know you're taking lorazepam in case you have a seizure that doesn't stop. Prevents EMS from giving you something that conflicts with your meds."

Sara stares at Hannah.

"Seriously?"

"Oh come on," Hannah says with a wink. "I think the silver goes great with your eyes."

Sara rolls her said eyes, watching Hannah as she secures the bracelet to her wrist.

"Did you need to make it so tight?" Sara questions. "And on my dominant hand?"

Hannah smiles, "Yes, and yes. Reduces your ability to pry the thing off the moment you step out of here."

Sara raises a brow.

"Oh, don't pretend that's not exactly what you were thinking, Sara Sidle."

Sara shakes her head, moving to the door.

"See you tomorrow," she offers Hannah as a peace offering.

* * *

"You alright, hon?"

Sara looks up in surprise, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"It's just, you've been pacing back and forth for the last twenty five minutes."

Sara looks around, glancing at the clock.

"Sorry," she offers quietly. "I didn't realize."

"You want to talk about it?"

Sara swallows, pulling at the medical bracelet on her wrist.

"I just, I didn't expect him to say yes."

I nod, tapping my own fingers against the break room table where Sara, DB, and I just met.

DB was hesitant about everything, but stated he would give this a shot if tomorrow's events proved to him that Sara's seizures could be stopped via this new method.

It's a shot at getting her old life back, and I know Sara's nervous as hell about it.

"It'll work, sweetheart," I tell her.

"What if it doesn't," she questions. "What if all of this is for nothing. If tomorrow it doesn't stop the seizure?"

"Then we figure it out," I state, standing to approach her.

"Sara," I call, taking her hands and forcing her to look at me.

"We're in this together, honey. No matter what happens tomorrow."

Sara swallows tightly, trying to relax.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

"For what?" I ask. "For being human and being nervous?"

Her silence is confirmation.

"You've always supported me when I needed it," I tell her honestly, squeezing her hands. "Don't you dare hesitate about letting me do the same for you."

"It's just…" Sara gets out. "It's not me."

"Oh, I know," I laugh. "I've noticed your independent, stubborn streak a few times over the past ten years."

Sara smiles, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

"Thanks," she says softly. "For all this."

"You're the one who's willing to take the chance of doing it," I tell her. "My part was the easy part."

"No," Sara shakes her head. "Your part was what gave me hope at getting back to my life. Whether it works out or not, Catherine, I can't thank you enough."

Squeezing her hands, I nod, accepting her sentiment.

"Come on," I offer, noting her features. "We're both exhausted, let's get you home."

Making our way back towards her house, Sara and I enter inside.

Sara's mom isn't around, and I know at some point we're going to have to address the issue of Sara telling her mom about the study.

Sara's going to be here alone with her mom a lot of times, and Laura needs to know about the study and be able to administer Sara the medication.

I don't know what Sara's hesitance is about this particular issue, or a lot of issues with her mom lately, but it's something that soon we aren't going to be able to ignore.

But, for now, I move with her to the couch, accepting her invitation to share a cup of coffee before parting ways.

Sara, however, barely makes it half way through hers before she's having a hard time keeping her eyes open.

Reaching out, I gently draw her to me, setting our coffees down and wrapping my arms around her as I lean her head against my shoulder.

She mumbles something to me about needing to get back to work, but I ignore her, running my hands softly through her hair until her mumbles cease and her breathing evens out.

Holding her, I allow my own eyes to close, feeling safe, comfortable, and blessed with Sara in my arms.

I could really get used to this.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

"_Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds." _

_Orison Swett Marden_

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Ready?"

Sara nods, keeping her eyes on me and away from DB and Hannah.

I know being watched is not something she's thrilled about, and I'm glad she's trying to focus on me.

"Ready?" Hannah addresses me this time.

"Yeah," I state, voice tense. "I just inject it into her thigh, right? Then pull it back out?"

"Catherine," Hannah calls softly. "You've practiced this over and over today. You know what to do."

"I just…I don't want to screw up or hurt her."

"Cath," Sara calls out, gently reaching up to take my hand. "You'll do great, okay? I trust you."

I nod, squeezing her hand tightly, trying to calm my nerves.

"Alright Sara, lay back," Hannah instructs. "We need this to be as real to life as possible, but don't want to risk any unnecessary injuries."

Sara nods, leaning back to lay flat on the mat on the floor.

"Sara," Hannah calls. "We're going to try our best to invoke a seizure. This may take awhile or happen very quickly."

Approaching Sara, she lets out a breath, for the first time dropping her stern demeanor and looking at Sara with what almost looks like sadness.

"This is always my least favorite part of this process," Hannah confesses. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to use what I know about you to do everything I can to stress you out to the point where I trigger a seizure."

Sara nods, smiling slightly. "Stress me out, eh? And how is that different from what you normally do?"

Hannah smiles back, shaking her head before squeezing Sara's shoulder and standing.

"Alright, guys," Hannah calls. "Everyone stand back and no one intercede until I give permission."

Taking a deep breath, she kneels down by Sara's side.

"Close your eyes, Sara."

Sara hesitates, then remembering she's _supposed _to feel uncomfortable, she slowly closes her eyes.

Hannah reaches over, placing her hand securely over Sara's eyes.

Immediately, Sara's arms reach up, grabbing at Hannah's wrist.

"Stop, Sara," Hannah calls, keeping her grip firm. "You need to let me do this for this to work."

Realizing what she's doing, Sara draws her hands slowly away from Hannah, taking a deep breath and trying to obey.

"This part's going to suck Sara, but you need to trust me."

Sara doesn't respond, the brunette working hard to control her breathing.

Moving forward, Hannah places her knees near either side of Sara's head

Realizing what's about to happen, I step forward.

Eyes shooting to mine, Hannah sternly shakes her head.

Returning her gaze to Sara, she keeps her grip over her eyes firm while completing her movements and placing Sara's head firmly between her knees, blocking Sara's ears with her legs.

Sara immediately struggles, but this time Hannah uses her free hand to keep Sara's hands restrained and away from her face.

Now plunged into complete darkness and silence, hands restrained, Sara panics, legs kicking out to try to gain purchase against the floor.

"Hannah…" step in, hating to watch this. "There has to be another-"

"This is the best way," Hannah cuts me off. "If you want this to work, this is the way it has to be."

Glancing up at me, Hannah continues to keep Sara pinned down, her expression stern.

"You need to trust me, Catherine. I'm not going to hurt her."

Realizing she really can't get free, Sara goes from panicked to frantic, growling out through clenched teeth, she fights valiantly against Hannah.

Minutes stretch on, Hannah keeping Sara blinded and deafened to the world around her, knowing exactly what would drive the guarded brunette to her breaking point.

Fighting violently, Sara suddenly slows her efforts, her body going rigid.

"I…it.."

Her voice is strained, her jaw tight.

Hannah watches her closely, knowing as well as I do that Sara can feel her seizures when they're coming.

Pulling her hand back from Sara's eyes, sure enough, Sara's gaze is growing unfocused, her hands clenching into fists as she breathes shallow breaths.

Quickly moving back, Hannah steps up and away from Sara.

No more than ten seconds later, Sara's body starts convulsing.

"Give it a couple seconds," Hannah instructs me. "We need this to be as true to life as possible, and it would take you some time to get to her, to get the pen ready."

I nod, but hating to see Sara's body convulsing in front of me.

Just when I can no longer take it, Hannah nods.

"Now."

Snapping into action, I quickly snap the safety cap off the injecting pen, grabbing Sara's leg with my other.

Trying to keep her leg as steady as possible, I take a deep breath and plunge the pen down into Sara's thigh.

Pulling back, I move out of the way.

All of us watching Sara, Hannah shifts her gaze between the brunette and her watch.

"Come on," I call under my breath. "Come on, Sara."

Convulsions continuing, I'm about to panic myself when her body suddenly goes still.

"Sar?" I call, eyes anxiously going to Hannah. "Can I?"

Hannah nods, and I waste no time dropping to Sara's side.

Running my fingers gently through her hair, I watch Sara's eyes start to focus, her body starting to move to try to get up.

"Stop, Sara," I caution her, watching as her eyes move in surprise to mine.

"Cath?" she questions in confusion, eyes looking around her.

Seeing DB, then seeing Hannah, she takes in a deep breath, recalling where she is.

"Did it work?" she gets out, body finally stopping its fight against me.

Hannah nods, for the first time letting out a relieved breath.

"Twenty seven seconds from the time of injection," she reports. "Anything under thirty qualifies."

Sara lets out a breath of her own.

"Thank God."

Taking her hands, I squeeze them in mine, gently pulling her up to a sitting position.

Leaning over, I softly kiss her temple.

"I'm so proud of you," I tell her.

Both our eyes lift to DB.

He's quiet, his expression pale and tense, likely trying to cope with everything he's been silent witness to.

"I, uh," he clears his throat, moving his glasses further up his nose. "I'll see you for field assignments on Monday, Sara."

Sara smiles, closing her eyes in relief.

"You ladies enjoy your weekend," he tells us gently. "You've earned it."

Sending me a smile, DB exits the room.

Helping Sara to stand, we embrace each other, Sara holding me tightly.

"Thank you," she says into my hair at the top of my head. "I owe you."

"You've already paid any present and future debt to me in full, Sara. Saving my life from those bastards was more than enough payment for a lifetime."

Sara smiles, pulling back.

"In regards to saving lives," she tells me softly. "You just gave me back mine, so I say we call it even."

I smile back, kissing her softly.

"Deal."

Pulling back, Sara keeps her hands protectively around me, turning herself to face Hannah.

"Thanks," she offers the nurse.

Hannah shakes her own head. "I'm sorry, Sara."

"You did what you had to do."

Hannah watches Sara, letting out a deep breath.

"I always hope things work out for everyone I work with," she confesses. "But I really hope this all works out for you, Sara. I know I give you a hard time, but you really deserve to be happy."

Sara nods, taking in Hannah's words, the two of them reaching a truce.

"But," Hannah cuts in with a smile. "You get to see me now for weekly visits to document progress in the study. And, if you're not less scrawny and exhausted than you are now each time I see you, don't think there won't be hell to pay."

Sara laughs, shaking her head.

"Noted."

"Good," Hannah smiles back, leaving us in peace.

* * *

"What's this?" I ask, eyes lighting up at the scene before me.

"This is a thank you."

"I already told you Sara, no thank you necessary."

Sara shrugs, "The seizures must be affecting my memory."

I slap her on the arm with a groan. "That's not even close to funny, Sara."

Sara smiles, moving away to pull out a chair.

Complying, I take a seat, still trying to wrap my head around the beautiful dinner spread out in front of me.

When she asked me over tonight, I thought perhaps she wanted to go for coffee, or wanted to run by some theories on a case.

I didn't expect this.

Picking up my fork, I serve myself some food, taking a bite.

And, I'm pretty sure I die in the process.

This must be heaven.

"Oh my God," I groan.

My eyes fix on the slightly blushing brunette across from me.

"Why didn't you tell me you could cook?"

Sara shrugs, taking a bite of her own food.

"Cooking is subjective."

"This is not subjective," I counter. "Anyone with taste buds would be in love with your food, and probably you, after one bite."

Sara blushes a bit deeper, taking a long sip of her water.

I smile, digging in.

"Your mom out somewhere?" I ask between mouthfuls.

Sara keeps her gaze on her own food.

"I don't know."

I pause, "You don't know?"

She looks up, "Yes, I don't know."

I watch her expression, one that has gone from carefree to tense.

"Okay," I offer, not trying to make her uncomfortable and ruin the moment. "Sorry."

Sara breathes out, "No, Cath, I'm sorry."

Her eyes lift to mine.

"I just don't like talking about my mom."

I nod, "I've noticed."

Sara's grip on her fork is tight. "I…this…" Sara takes a breath. "This is just what she does, alright?"

"What do you mean, Sara?" I question, trying to figure out her statement, figure out what has the brunette so upset.

"Nothing," she breathes out. "Let's just drop it, alright?"

Her eyes lift to mine, the greens in her gaze standing out in the candle light. "Please?"

I want to push her, to force her to get over this code of silence she has regarding her mother. I want to be privy to this part of her life.

But, I also don't want to harass the woman that just spent the better part of her day preparing this amazing evening for us.

"Okay," I tell her, taking a calming breath and sending her a gentle smile.

Reaching across the table, I take her free hand in mine.

Kissing her palm softly, I return her hand and continue my meal.

Thankfully, the tension between us slowly abates, the conversation returning to much more pleasant topics.

By the end of the meal, and my third glass of wine, I feel absolutely on top of the world.

"Oh no," I call, standing quickly to grab Sara by the back of her jeans. "Drop the plate."

Sara looks at me like I'm nuts, her plate held tightly in her hand.

"You made the dinner, I do the dishes."

Sara raises a brow. "I'm not letting you do the dishes in my own home, that's just rude."

"Sara," I roll my eyes. "This isn't the fifties. Give me the damn plate."

"Or what?"

I raise my own brows. "You really want to go there, Sidle?"

Sara smiles a devilish, confident grin.

"Fine," I shrug.

Moving slowly closer to her, her grin loses some of its confidence.

"Cath?" she questions, eying me suspiciously.

Moving around behind her, she tries to watch me over her shoulder.

Leaning into her back, I wrap my arms slowly around her waist, my lips making their way to her neck.

"With my hands free," I whisper. "I can touch you anywhere I want…"

I bring my lips lower, kissing her along her shoulder.

"Do anything I want…"

My hands roam lower, coming to cross her waist, moving down towards her thighs.

"But poor you has that darn plate in your hands…"

Sara swallows, trying to steady herself against my touches.

When my hand reaches her more, sensitive, areas, however, she groans, trying to move over towards the table to set the plate down.

"Oh no you don't," I call, holding her firmly in place. "You wanted that dish so bad, it's yours, hon."

Sara groans, trying to turn in my arms.

Holding her firmly, I press my lips to the base of her neck.

"You regretting your decision?" I whisper.

Sara's breathing is unsteady, her body language betraying her.

Deciding to have pity on her, I give her neck one last kiss before I slide around in front of her and grab my own plate from the table.

"Team effort?" I suggest.

Sara shakes her head, desire still coloring her features, a smile crossing her lips.

"Deal."

* * *

Laying on the brunette's couch, Sara has her arms protectively around my waist, her breathing slow and steady, her heartbeat strong under my ear where it rests against her chest.

Holding her shirt tightly, I continue to listen to its steady beat.

"I heard it stop."

Sara shifts slightly, and I can almost imagine the confused expression on her face.

"What?"

"Your heart," I whisper. "In that room. I heard it stop."

"Catherine…" Sara breathes, holding me tighter. "I'm not going anywhere. That's all over."

Kissing the top of my head softly, Sara breathes out.

"I'm not leaving you, Catherine," Sara confesses. "I'm always going to be right here."

"You can't promise that."

"I just did," Sara counters. "And tell me one time I ever broke a promise to you."

I don't waste my time trying to think of one. I know Sara. I know she keeps her word. Always.

"I love you," I tell her, eyes closing.

I don't know if she ever answers back, exhausted sleep claiming me before I can listen for her response.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.  
**


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